Typical Patrols
by GordonBG
Summary: When on a typical patrol, Barbara stumbles in to an unexpected tangle of drug deals, frat parties, and Nightwing. Can the two heros work together to unravel this mess? Doesnt take place in any particular universe, but mostly influenced by Batgirl of Burnside
1. Chapter 1

It hadn't rained for two days, but in this city there was always a dampness in the air, as if a storm was creeping up behind you. The breeze was chilled, not uncommon for a September evening but certainly not welcomed while she crouched on the rooftop of an apartment building. She peaked down behind her; seven stories did not seem that far to climb up, but the drop down would be much faster. Her right shoulder and hip hugged the edge of a rusted vent unit as she strained to hear two boys arguing over some trivial detail as to who would tell their boss about the botched drop. Stupid thugs, she thought. It won't matter after I string you up for the cops to find.

She waited, impatiently, for their boss to arrive. Although she wasn't sure if he would be coming to them, or they leaving to go to him. She had a hunch of the former, otherwise why the rooftop meet-up, yet stayed poised to lunge in case they started to move.

When the chatter between the young boys subsided into a thorough description of Tiffany's fine ass, she slumped down a little, dejected slightly of the crude and unimaginative way they emphasized their desire for said Tiffany. Barbara felt an urge to tap her foot out of frustration with the long wait for some action tonight.

Instead, taking a deep breath to relax her nerves, she focused on the sounds around her.

To the left of her, two pigeons landed on the roof, one splashing in a puddle, thwipping it's wings into the murky water, while the other pecked lightly at the ground, mistaking gravel for seed. Idiot. On the next roof over, just over six feet away, a dilapidated flag softly flapped in the breeze. The metal ring clanging continuously, once every 4 seconds. On the floor below her, a window opened slowly. Barbara could tell it was original to the century old building as the wood frame of the window resisted movement against the wood trim. Soft, soothing humming drifted out from inside the apartment, mixed with the faint smell of Indian take out.

Great. Now she was hungry.

A phone buzzed. Her attention was quickly refocused. The smaller of the two boys reached in to his back pocket, pulling out the blue screen.

"Not tonight," he read.

"Seriously?" The bigger one looked pissed. Like he would much rather have been shot down by Tiffany at the bar across town then get stood up by boss man. At least then he'd have a drink.

"Let's go."

Damn! No lead. No bigger fish. But two guppies would have to do for tonight. She reached for her phone, texting the address to her contact at GCPD. As soon as her finger hit send she heard his deep, yet playful voice address the boys to her left.

"Hey fellas! Sorry I'm not who you were expecting, but we can still have some fun, right?"

How dare he swipe my collar? I've had to sit through their tripe for the past 24 minutes and you just swoop in and think you get all the credit? Barbara stood from her crouched position, pins tingling her right foot as the blood flowed back through her whole body. She stood just in time to see the raven haired man blocking a sloppy punch from the larger thug. He grabbed the thug's right wrist with his left hand, pivoting so his back was facing his attacker and flipped the 280-lbs man over his shoulder, landing hard on the asphalt roof. Easy take down for him, but as he was dancing with his rotund partner, the other kid was sprinting to the edge of the roof. Barbara starred as she thought of his choices. Obviously running away from the masked man was the right choice, but he was also running away from her, and the fire escape was directly behind her. She watched, confused, as he put one foot on the edge, then leapt off the roof, straining to cling to the next building's ledge, a good foot higher. He pulled himself up swiftly, swinging his right leg over the ledge. This guy had guts. And a huge desire to avoid jail time.

Since the boy wonder was distracted hogtying his captive, he only realized Barbara was there when she dashed passed him, chasing the other thug he hadn't got to yet. He watched as she gracefully bounded from one roof to the next, a smirk danced on his lips.

"Hey-" the tied up man tried to get his attention, but he hit him across the temple, knocking him unconscious.

Two can play at this game, he thought, as he started running in the direction of the streak of red hair.

Even at her full speed she wasn't catching up to this guy. He was climbing further up to higher buildings, leaping from one ledge to the fire escape on the next building, climbing like his life depended on this intense game of tag. Well, she supposed it did. She was matching him step for step, but his head start made it almost impossible for her to reach him. Finally, he stopped. No more buildings to leap to. They were high above Rochester St, the bustling four lane street smack in the middle of downtown.

"Just stop, dude," she shouted at him from across the roof. A few seconds later the raven man climbed up next to Barbara.

"Now it's two against one," he chimed in. She rolled her eyes. He always had to say some quip, something catchy. Barbara stared at him as he took a step towards her perp. At the same time, in her peripheral she saw thug number one disappear off the side of the roof. Boy wonder froze, eyes wide, not quite believing the guy would rather die than spend a couple nights locked up.

Barbara's instinct, however, was to run. Her feet sprinted from the opposite side of the pavement, across the twenty feet until she leapt off the same spot he did. Ridiculous, but as she fell from the fifteen or so stories, she grabbed the gun from her hip, pointed the spot her feet had just pounced off, and shot a hook out so that her plummeting momentum changed into a forward swing once the claw attached itself to the roof. She had slightly less rope than necessary to get all the way to the street. Letting go, she dropped to the ground running, slamming in to a parked car to stop her speed. She looked around, seeing if she could see where her assailant had landed. Two cars back from where she was propping herself up, a car was crinkled under the weight of the roof runner. She saw a stream of blood trickle down the car into the gutter as she approached the body. Nothing more she could do, she reached in to his back pocket, and found his phone. Screen cracked into a hundred fragments, case split in two, and wouldn't turn on. Completely busted. But not a bust. She tucked it behind her belt on her lower back and turned from the body. This kid was scared. And she was determined to find out who scared him. She moved down a nearby alleyway, back towards 73rd St as red and blue lights flashed behind her.

Time to hack a phone.


	2. Chapter 2

Climbing through her window on the fourth floor was a bizarre way to enter her own apartment, but she wasn't sure if her roommate was home or crashing at her girlfriend's place, so better safe then sorry, she figured. She kicked off her yellow combat boots and slinked comfortably into her wooden swivel desk chair. It may not be the most comfortable spot to sit, but her dad salvaged it from the GCPD when they switched over to ergonomic chairs a few years back. It reminded her of years growing up in the precinct after school, watching her dad sift through endless stacks of case files. This chair was someplace she felt at home; sitting in front of her set up, three screens spread over a cheap IKEA Bekant computer desk. She still had a half full mug of creamy coffee from earlier that morning, a slight milky film sitting on top of the now ice cold drink. Sliding the coaster under the mug across the desk top, she pulled out the stolen phone, placing it beside her keyboard.

A quick upload shouldn't take too long. Find out who his contacts are, more specifically who sent the last message, and start a new case to take down another of the city's drug dealers. Easy, she thought as she plugged in the USB cord to the shattered phone.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear the window open. She didn't feel the chill creep in through the sheer curtains. She didn't smell his very distinct scent which normally drove her to the brink of distraction. Which is why she nearly fell off her chair when Grayson stepped up behind her.

"Are you insane?" He accused. "Jumping off a building, after a dead man?"

She turned in her chair to look at her intruder. His arms were crossed in that disapproving fatherly way, which made her giggle considering she was two years older than him. He narrowed his eyes at her and frowned.

"I needed his phone," she simply stated with a slight shrug of her right shoulder. She didn't see any issues with her actions. She got the job done.

"So take the elevator. Don't free fall off a fifteen story building." He moved to lay on her bed, kicking his feet up on her duvet, leaning casually back against the headboard, hands linked behind his head.

She narrowed her eyes in his direction, noticing the corners of his mouth were slightly raised. Typical Grayson, she thought. Not actually upset, just needing to tease me at every moment, even if I do something cool.

"Get your feet off my bed," Barbara shot back. He immediately obliged, getting up to stand behind her chair, leaning over the back and placing one hand on her desktop. She moved her attention back to her computer, trying to focus on the task at hand. The closeness of his body gave off a comforting warmth, combating the breeze that trickled in the still opened window. She breathed in his aroma; slightly sweet, like mint soap, with a touch of smokey firewood. They could candle that smell and she would burn it every night.

"So who's our guy?" Grayson's breath coated the nape of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

"My guy is named Greg," she jabbed back.

"Greg? What, is he a frat boy at GCU? Also, how many Greg's are there in Gotham? Could you narrow it down?" Grayson started pacing her small bedroom, taking three or four long strides before hitting a wall and having to pivot the other way. Barbara watched as Grayson's detective impulses kicked in; his lips pursed and his brow narrowed under the eye mask. If he wasn't trying to steal her case, she would find his dedication adorable.

"I'm working on tracing the message. There are no phone calls between these two. All I have is his last text. Our dead thug always deleted them after he hit send. Just didn't have time tonight before you interrupted them. Lucky for us, I suppose."

She didn't want to indulge too much information. She still wanted this win for her column. But having an extra hand couldn't hurt. Especially if it meant getting some quality stake-our time with the prodigal son of Gotham.

"When I get more intel, I'll message you with a location," Barbara subtlety looked at the door, seeing if he would take a clue.

"Alright," Grayson succumbed. His hand grasped the doorknob when she leapt from the chair just in time to slam her palm on the door by his head. He tilted his head down slightly to his right so he was looking into her eyes. A sly smile surfaced on his lips as impure thoughts of his friend filled his head.

Slowly unzipping her leather jacket revealing the white tank he knew was underneath. Sliding his other hand behind her head, twirling his fingers around her fiery hair. Leaning in to kiss her lips as he lifted her light frame towards her bed.

"Window," Barbara said to a distracted Grayson, her hand still firmly pressed against her door. "I can't have Frankie seeing Nightwing do a walk of shame from my bedroom at 2am on a Wednesday."

"I can assure you, it would not be in shame." He took a step closer to Barbara, but thought against it. "Fine," he said as he walked across the room. Sliding one foot out the window on to the fire escape, he paused, turning back to her.

"Keep me posted. Don't go running off any more rooftops without letting me know first."

Barbara playfully shoved his shoulder, pushing his head down and out the window, laughing at his immaturity. He swung down the side of the fire escape in two quick leaps, landing beside his motorcycle. He looked up at her watching and raised two fingers to his temple as he started the motor.

Shutting the window, she unzipped her jacket, and shimmied out of her tights. As her computer quietly whirred, filling her room with a dim blue glow, she collapsed on the bed in a tank and underwear. She closed her eyes and blacked out until Frankie pounded on her door 4 hours later.


	3. Chapter 3

Barbara pulled her knees up close the her chest while she struggled to find comfort on the wooden park bench under a

large ash tree. The fleece sweatpants she wore provided a small amount of warmth against the chill of the predawn park temperature. Frankie jogged passed her for the fourth time, tossing a GSU hoodie at Barbara's head. She laughed as she quickly snuggled in to her friend's sweater. She leaned to the right to grab her coffee, the perfect sipping temperature that somehow only the one Jitters coffee shop on the way to the park could create. Barbara watched her friend slow down as she approached the bench again.

"I thought we would be running together, girl," Frankie managed to get out between heavy gulps of air.

"I got in a run last night." Barbara felt only slightly guilty. She wasn't lying to her best friend, but it still felt unethical.

"Don't care. I do it. You do it." Frankie's hands rested on her upper thighs, her dreadlocks tied back in a loose bun on the top of her head. "I've got 5 laps left in me. It's only fair you join me."

Barbara put down her coffee and pulled her hair up quickly. She stood up from the bench, bent over to touch her toes, then playfully stretched her arms in front of her chest. Then she took off; Frankie only realizing after Barbara had taken the first bend around the park perimeter.

At her top speed Barbara could outrun most rudimentary criminals, even keep up with Nightwing. She could always outrun any GCPD uniform on their best day. But when running with Frankie, a new activity her roommate insisted they start up once the snow had melted, she stunted herself to a brisk jog. Frankie caught up to her a moment later and the two friends found a pace that pushed Frankie's heartbeat, but relaxed Barbara's mind so she could focus on last night's activities.

She didn't get a chance to check on her auto programming, which ran all night uploading the phone's contents to her computer, before Frankie woke her up with running shoes in hand. Barbara was curious what she would find when she went home. And if she would fill in Grayson when she found answers.

The two had a playful competition of who could set up the most arrests. There was no official tally, although she couldn't be certain Grayson wasn't keeping score at home. And she knew she was losing, but she was also less experienced. He'd been practicing since he was 9; she only started patrolling four years ago. She was good, he was better. Although she would never admit that to his face.

"...party. Tonight." Barbara heard Frankie's voice, but didn't clue in she was speaking to her until she stopped talking.

"Huh?"

Frankie laughed, although it was more a gasping for breath than a hearty laugh. One more lap to go; Frankie was determined to finish her goal. She also didn't think it fair that she was next to death while her friend barely had pink cheeks.

"Earth to Barbara? Did you want to come with me to the party tonight?" Frankie repeated.

Knowing Frankie, Barbara assumed this was either at her girlfriend's apartment uptown, in the neighbourhood that sold $50 chew toys for dogs, or at GSU, the university campus that sprawled over most of downtown Gotham. Either way, Barbara was in. The kid she watched smash his body into a car last night from a very high distance looked about college age. Best case scenario she may be able to get some information on a new drug ring on campus. Worse case, she got a couple free drinks and maybe a cute guy's number.

"Sure," Barbara smiled as her friend threw her hands in the air and jumped up, turning in tiny circles. The run was over. Time for breakfast at the diner across from their apartment. Counterintuitive, but Frankie ignored the logical health consequences for bacon. So much bacon.

When the two girls stumbled up the four flights of stairs an hour later, Frankie dashed for the front door, immediately crashing face first on the couch to the right, hand flopping on the ground still holding her keys. Barbara locked the door behind her, heading straight for the bathroom and turning the shower to run hot water. After two minutes, she stepped in, letting the steam and heat carry away the sweat and dirt from the past twelve hours. She closed her eyes, thinking back to her lone stake-out the night before. Sifting through any images she could remember for clues to who these kids were could help her stay one step ahead of Grayson.

The big guy had a GCU varsity patch on his sweater. Either an active football player, or just a big fan. Hard to tell. The roof runner, on the other hand, didn't have anything quite as obvious. But the two guys had to know each other from somewhere.

Barbara mentally scolded herself, hearing her father's voice in her mind; "An assumption by deduction does not make it true." Just because they were on the same job didn't mean they knew each other personally. Furthermore, it was not evident that both kids went to GSU just because they looked the right age.

Barbara exited the shower, wrapping herself in a large, fluffy towel. She stepped lightly by her passed out roommate to enter her room, closing the door as she started to tussle her damp hair with the towel. She threw on a large, navy GCPD training t-shirt as she sat down at the computer desk. From the corner of her room by the door she heard a slow clearing of a man's throat. She bundled up the damp towel still in her hands and chucked it over her shoulder.

"Grayson, a heads up next time!"

He caught the towel and tossed it on the hamper in her closet. Laughing causally, he walked over to her bed, hands up above his head apologetically.

"Sorry, my bad," he said through a smile. "I figured you would still be sleeping when I came in, but I couldn't find you. So I waited. Albeit maybe not the best place to wait, but let's call lurking in the shadows a hazard of the job." He sat on the edge of her unmade bed, elbows resting on his knees, clearly wanting to see what Barbara had uncovered from the night before.

"I was out with Frankie. She likes company when she runs." Barbara was curious why she felt the need to explain her absence from her bed this morning. Brushing past it, and clearly not acknowledging that Grayson had seen her completely naked not two minutes ago, she turned to the computer and hit a couple keys, opening up three different windows, each one with a different address pinned on a map.

"Is that where their boss is?" Grayson's tone shifted to full business mode.

"I don't know yet. Seeing this for the first time like you." Barbara concentrated on the screens, digging deeper into the routing systems while Grayson leaned back, grabbing a pillow to prop his head up.

He closed his eyes, listening to her fingers dance over the keyboard skillfully. He had only slept a couple hours last night, unable to rest after he got back to the manor. He had gone down to the gym, thinking some after hours training would clear his head. It didn't. All he thought of was Gordon jumping off the roof, her purple cape disappearing from sight. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her for the last time. Although, this morning lent him another image of her he didn't mind replaying. Her soft, pale skin still gleaming from the steam. Muscles toned from years of dance. Her fingers running through her wet, fiery hair. Her neck curved so perfectly that he wanted to rest his lips on her shoulders ever so gently, sending waves of temptation through her body.

"I think I got it," her voice was distant. He quickly opened his eyes and cleared his throat as he sat upright. A little dazed, he focussed on a clothed Barbara. "It's not too far from here. The location the text was sent from last night. And funny enough, I'm headed there tonight. With Frankie."

Grayson looked at the screen to see a pin drop on West 14th St.

"Wait, I was right?" Grayson couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he put two together.

"Yes, it was sent from the frat house. And yes, I'm going to a frat party tonight." Barbara confirmed.

"Greg's a frat boy," Grayson said amused. He looked at Barbra as she rolled her eyes; a common expression she had when he spoke. "And I'm going with you."


	4. Chapter 4

Barbara managed a productive day considering her sleep the night before was partial at best. After Grayson left, out the front door this time since Frankie was still knocked out from their morning run and he wasn't dawning his Nightwing gear, Barbara put on pants and dove deep into a never ending thesis that weighed heavily on her shoulders. After seven months of material being gathered, she was just starting to write the opening pages to what she assumed would be another seven months of writing and rewriting. Then would come the editing process, then fact checking, then presentations. The workload was daunting, but not enough to discourage the graduate.

Barbara had written for six hours straight, ingesting five cups of coffee and three bowls of cereal. As she hunkered down in her room, Frankie had gone and returned from a quick photo shoot to start getting ready for the night's outing.

Barbara lifted her glasses to rub her heavy eyes. If she didn't have a lead for her case at this party tonight, she would certainly be crashing on her bed right now. But instead, changed from sweatpants into dark blue jeans and a white v-neck tee, slipping in to black booties and leaving her hair down, the layers falling in to her face as she quickly brushed on mascara.

Being too far to walk, Frankie and Barbara headed out shortly after 8pm, taking the train to 14th St station. As the girls walked down the stairs to street level, Barbara saw Grayson leaning against a lamppost at the bottom of the steps. His arms were crossed, but she could still see the tight, navy blue T-shirt under the black, half unbuttoned dress shirt. Coupled with tight black jeans and black boots, Barbara couldn't help the smile on her face as she approached her partner for the night.

"Waiting long?" She pulled a confused Frankie with her and Barbara realized she left out some key information for the night.

"Frankie, Dick was heading to the party tonight, too. I figured we could all go together." Her two best friends knew the other existed, but never hung out together before. Only ever meeting each other in passing; they led very opposite lifestyles. Frankie being Frankie was all for the extra company.

Grayson pushed off the post and followed slightly behind the two girls who continued their conversation from their travels as if he wasn't there. Which he preferred. He liked watching Barbara be a normal girl; no mask to dawn, no corruption to cleanup. Simple. When he was around her in these moments, he felt normal too. It usually only lasted a few minutes, but he cherished those times with her.

A short walk from the station led the trio to an old brick house nestled between two glass towers. The frat house was bumping with a heavy bass, the sidewalk littered with already drunk boys leaning against giggling blonde barbies. Grayson shook his head slightly. They'll be puking in the bushes by ten, he bet himself. Silently following his companions inside, he did a quick recon of the layout. Kitchen to the left, large living room to the right, stairs straight ahead. Beside the staircase a long hallway, leading to another open common area, and a bathroom he assumed. A door under the staircase, which must lead to the basement. Once he took a lap around the main level he'd head upstairs; poke his head into some bedrooms and see if maybe he could find a nesting ground for Greg.

Looking around him he realized he was still standing awkwardly in the doorway. Alone. He glanced to his left and saw a flash of red. Always easy to find her in a crowd. He followed the girls to the kitchen, stopping at the large island littered with red plastic cups and bottles of alcohol, most only half full, some already completely empty. As he looked through the liquor, opting to pop open a bottle of cheap beer, he saw a tall, broad shouldered guy saunter up behind Barbara. He wrapped his right forearm around Babs's collarbone, and leaned his lips against her left ear. Grayson couldn't make out their conversation over the aggressively loud beat, but saw her eyes widen and her mouth drop into a frown. Grayson set his beer down calmly. He took two steps towards the couple; eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, ready to slam this douchebag's chiseled jaw into the marble countertop.

Barbara had something similar in mind. She grasped his forearm with her right hand. Jutting her head back swiftly, the drunk took an unbalanced step back, far enough for Barbara to pivot, twisting his wrist around his back and with her left hand, forcing his head down onto the countertop with her right. Her small frame was dwarfed by the creep's stature, even bending down, but she twisted his arm far enough to cause pain but not fracture any bones. Just like her dad taught her. She bent over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"Don't ever speak those words consecutively to another human being in your life, understood?" He nodded as best he could with his head still held firmly pressed against the counter. Letting go, he rubbed his wrist while walking out to the hallway, tail between his leg, but with enough bravado to still whisper "bitch" under his breath.

Grayson slowly glided his foot out as the guy walked passed him, enough to make him stumble but not fall down. Grayson grabbed his shoulder, steadying the drunk.

"Sorry, man. My bad. That looked rough though. You sure she didn't hurt you?" His tone was dripping with fake concern. He smiled down at the guy, giving him a slight push out the room and made his way over to Babs.

"So, I'm about done here," Barbara laughed. She knew Grayson had seen the whole thing, and was moments away from jumping in to rescue her. Sometimes he needed reminding that she had been protecting herself her whole life. Although, she would never turn down the back up. She saw his shoulders visibly relax. He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the stairs.

"Just a couple things we need to check before we head out," he said, leading her up to the second floor.


	5. Chapter 5

During the past four years, Barbara had spent most of her nights lurking on the rooftops of Gotham City; perched on fire escapes, listening over alleyways for any sign of criminal activity. A high percentage of said nights were dull when the city's nightlife was tucked away; even the drunk assholes outside clubs were uncharacteristically gentlemanly. No one to reprimand or deal out her own form of justice. The only thing keeping her awake aside from the coffee she would down quickly before suiting up, was Nightwing making quips in her ear for hours on end.

Grayson had made her first two years after joining the team comfortable by showing her the ropes during patrol nights; key hot spots for meet-ups, which clubs where owned by which mob bosses, which bodegas were "protected" by GCPD cops. Barbara knew it would be an especially enjoyable evening when she heard his voice crackle over the comm system. Solo nights were getting to her. She missed his lighthearted chuckle in her ear and the reliability that he wasn't too far away.

Last night was the second time she'd seen him masked in ten months. Yet still she felt in sync with him tonight as they climbed the stairs of the frat house to the second floor. Her fingers still entwined in his, she felt a pang of disappointment when he let go of her grasp. The music was quieter up here, more muffled, yet she could feel the bass still vibrating her ribcage. They were seemingly alone, but the two kept quiet. Grayson signalled he would take the far three rooms by holding up three fingers, waving them to the back of the hallway. Switching to two fingers, he motioned to the two front rooms by the staircase landing. Barbara nodded once and headed towards her targets. It was a relief to know they could still communicate in silence.

Barbara opened the first door to her left. She wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe an unmade bed, computer desk stacked high with opened textbooks and papers filling the garbage can. For some reason she thought the blinds would be askew. To her surprise, the room was immaculate. Possibly too clean to be part of a frat house. For a brief moment she thought she stepped through a pocket dimension, but shook her head at her own nonsense and started to search the room. The desk had a laptop opened, so she swiped a finger across the trackpad, stirring it awake. While she waited, she sifted through a tidy stack of papers, seemingly in the process of being graded, with notations in the same lazy scrawl on every page. Teacher's Assistant, most likely. She opened the top drawer to find four highlighters, all different colours, five red pens, and a stack of neon post-it notes. She glanced up at the now attentive computer screen, searching the desktop for any incriminating folders, not quite sure what she would find. Drug Dealer Shit, something like that. To her disappointment, on the top right corner read "Scott's Laptop" on the taskbar. Not Greg. Giving one last glance around the room, she gave up and delicately shut the door behind her as she walked back into the hallway. Her next room turned out to be a very small bathroom. Hopefully Grayson has found Greg's room by now. She walked down the hall and poked her head through the single ajar door. A hand wrapped around her elbow, skirting her further into the room, nearly lifting her off her feet. She stumbled to the left of the door, into a smaller, nearly black room, full of clothes. A closet. Great detective skills Gordon, dad would be proud. She mentally face palmed herself, while realizing Grayson was the one who had pulled her in to the closet.

"What's up?" She whispered casually, as if she bumped in to him at a farmer's market rather than in a stranger's bedroom.

"Heard voices in the next room. Laying low for a second," his hand was still on her elbow. There wasn't much breathing room in the minimal space, her back was already pressed against a wall and Grayson's chest was only a few inches away from her own.

"So you hid in a closet?" Barbara teased. It was taking her eyes a bit longer than usual to adjust to the dimness, yet she could still sense Grayson shooting her a look that conveyed he, obviously, made the right move and she needed to be quiet.

"Shh," was the only retort he gave her. As the two stood inches apart in the black, Barbara felt her breath start to quicken against her better judgement. She hadn't been this close to him in quite some time. She dove deep in to his sweet, smokey scent with every breath she took. She could hear her heart beating faster. Her cheeks flushed at the thought that he, too, would be able to hear her rapid pulse in the quiet. She felt his hand tighten on her elbow, which caused her to involuntarily stretch out her hand, at the perfect height to reach out and graze his stomach. Even though he was wearing multiple layers, she felt his muscles tense under her fingertips. He looked down at her, curious why she was so focussed on caressing his stomach. Her gaze was lowered; he only saw her red hair, draping over her shoulders. With his free hand he brushed her hair behind her ear, causing her attention to be drawn upwards, now staring into his eyes. He could always see fairly well in the dark. So well he saw freckles speckled over her cheekbones, the redness of her natural lips, the soft, greeny yellow in her eyes.

Fuck it, he thought and he lowered his head down to meet their lips together.

Barbara let in a sharp intake of air through her nose, delightfully surprised by her friend's impulse to kiss her. She pushed her hand further into his stomach, not to push him away, but to feel closer to him. She moved half a step closer, pressing her legs against his. She felt his hand travel up her spine, cupping the back of her head as he twirled her hair around his fingers. His lips were softer than she imagined. And yes, she had imagined them quite a bit over the years.

Grayson moved his body closer to hers, pulling her in tighter. Part of him knew he needed to stop. The other part reprimanded him for not doing this every day. His wrestling dichotomy was moot when she pulled her lips away, arching her head back in an effort to split their bodies apart long enough to come to their senses.

"Wait, Grayson," Barbara sighed quietly. "We can't do this right now."

"Right." Why are you agreeing? Kiss her again, you fool. His inner voice threatened him, but he forced his hands to separate from her warm body. She stepped out of the closet, into the much larger, empty room.

"Did you find out who's room this is?" She scanned the room quickly as Grayson stepped out of the closet, making his way towards a laptop on the bed.

"Oh yeah. It's Greg's room," he casually bent down to remove a thick flash drive out of the laptop.

"I copied his hard drive," Grayson tossed the flash drive at Barbara who caught it with one hand.

"Why didn't you just tell me when you pulled me in here?"

"I had to wait for the hard drive to download. Couldn't think of a better way to waste time." He smiled in her direction as he walked out to the hallway. Barbara jogged slightly to catch up to him. Both walked casually down the stairs, simultaneously blending in with unsuspecting partygoers. Barbara tucked the flash drive into the strap of her bra as Frankie waved her down from the centre of a group of boys, clinging to her every word. Barbara joined the group as Grayson vanished through the front door into the cool night air, walking by a six foot two bro bending over, puking in the bushes. Checking his watch, reading 9:52pm, Grayson smiled to himself. Two wins tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

Frankie stood in the centre of the room surrounded by half a dozen boys telling tales of her glamorous lifestyle. For an unknown reason to Frankie, the captivated audience around her was thrilled by high fashion photography; spending the day ordering around waif goddesses as they stare soullessly into her lens. She was in the middle of indulging in the frat boys' unending interrogation of which model was the coolest (Kathyrn Amid, by far), when she saw Barbara skip down the stairs after Dick. As Barbara approached her cluster, she gave her best friend a knowing glance while she downed the last of her drink. Barbara returned the look with a glare and Frankie knew not to prod. At least not yet. The ride home would be fun.

Frankie continued her story, with exaggerated hand movements. She was feeling bizarre; her heart raced a little too fast like she was nervous, but Frankie was accustomed to having crowds hang on her every word since she was a kid. She felt a heat on the back of her neck, and realized she was sweating a bit. She stopped speaking in the middle of a thought, derailed from a sudden shortness of breath. She took a deep inhalation to slow her heartbeat. Barbara stepped next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She leaned in to Frankie's ear, whispering, "You okay?"

Her friend's concern spiked a panic inside of her. She shook her head. Immediately Barbara's grip engulfed her hand and she was being guided outside into the cool air. Frankie has never had a panic attack before, nor was she prone to anxiety.

Barbara turned to her friend, placing her hands lightly on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. Frankie's pupils were dilated. Her forehead was visibly sweating. Her breath was shallow.

"Let's get you home." Barbara slowly wrapped an arm over Frankie's shoulders, leading her away from the house. Frankie took two steps before her body went ridged against Barbara's lead. She turned away from Barbara's grasp, looking at her friend wide eyed as if she was unrecognizable. She took a few steps backwards, tripping on her own feet and landing hard on the pavement. Her breathing kept racing; any noise or movement in her peripheral made her skin crawl. She felt sick.

Barbara knelt beside Frankie. She reached out for her as Frankie's eyes rolled back and she passed out. Barbara caught her head just before it hit the ground. Her whole body had gone limp in Barbara's arms. She looked up for help but found the once packed lawn empty. She reached for her phone, calling for an ambulance.

After ending the call with the dispatcher, she called Grayson. She felt terrible for bothering him, but she was at a loss for how to handle herself and his voice tended calm her nerves.

"Babs, what's wrong?" She immediately heard when the line connected. A phone call was not in their repertoire lately.

"It's Frankie. She's collapsed. She seemed, scared," Barbara couldn't think of another word to describe the terror she saw in her friend's eyes.

"Where are you?" Grayson's voice was concerned.

"Literally eight feet from the front door of the frat house."

"I'm on my way," Grayson hung up the Bluetooth and made a sharp right turn. Luckily he took his car tonight. It'd be a tight fit with a third, unconscious person, but he figured he would get to them before the ambulance did.

And he was right. He pulled up four minutes later to find Barbara sitting on the patch of damp grass, holding her friend's head in her lap. He threw the stick shift into park, and leapt out of the car, leaving the door open as he ran to pick up the unconscious body. Barbara let him carry her roommate as she scurried to open the passenger door. Grayson gently placed her in the bucket seat.

"Go," he said over the door. Barbara was perched on the passenger window watching him buckle in Frankie. He jerked his head towards the driver's side.

She didn't have to be told twice. Barbara jumped to the other side, sliding into the idle car. She looked to her right to see Grayson adjusting Frankie's head.

"I'll meet you there," he said as he shut the door. Barbara pushed down on the gas, propelling herself towards Gotham General, twenty minutes north of 14th St.

In Grayson's Porsche, she made it there in eight.


	7. Chapter 7

The glass doors to the emergency room swooshed open. Grayson strolled in, bypassing triage. Around him bustled a chaotic team of nurses, EMTs, and doctors. A petite Latina nurse in navy blue scrubs holding a clipboard ran in front of him to chase down a heavyset doctor to his left. Grayson adjusted his pace according to the nearest group of workers; speeding up to get passed a gurney before it ran over his foot, or slowing down to let two nurses deep in conversation cross his path, oblivious to the visitor. All the while, Grayson's nearly poetic manoeuvring was centred around not spilling the two cups of rather large coffee he carried in both hands.

As he made his way through the main lobby of urgent care, taking a left down a significantly quieter hallway, he felt disheartened about his clear numbness of the gore and violence surrounding him. He had walked through Gotham General's emergency hundreds of times in his years as Robin; on route to question a perp, checking on a victim, watching someone die when he wasn't fast enough. It used to give him remorse. Now, he barely noticed the people around him crying out for help; screaming through the pain.

He turned the corner down a corridor capped with a No Admittance swinging door, lined on the right with plastic, orange chairs. Some of his longest nights were spent in those chairs. He felt another long night on the horizon for him and Barbara.

He saw her sitting not too far from the door at the end of the hallway, clearly told to stay like an obedient dog as the nurses took her unconscious friend through to the other side. Her feet were crossed in front of her, legs straight. Her hands were folded into a tight ball on her stomach, head down so her hair masked her face. She look wilted; defeated. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, bury her head on his chest and let her know everything would be okay. Even if he was being erroneous, it just felt good to have someone say it. He knew from experience.

Instead, he stood beside her, holding out his right hand. The scent of coffee lifted her head. She firstly saw the large J on the side of the brown and white paper cup, then, looking passed the heavenly aromatic liquid of life, saw a dejected Grayson looking down at her. His eyes were large, brow narrowed, and lips curled into a sympathetic smile; trying to be lighthearted, but also knowing the gravity of her concern. She needed less empathy, more distraction.

She took the warm cup in both hands, motioning with her head for him to take a seat, which he did gladly. He sat with his elbows on his knees so he had to look behind him to meet her gaze. She placed one hand on his back, feeling the slow rhythm of his breathing.

"Thank you," she mumbled into the cup as she slurped the sweetened caffeine. A small grin splayed her mouth with the knowledge that he remembered how she took her coffee.

"Any word?" He glanced at the doors to their right, motionless for the last twenty minutes.

"Not since they took her back there," Barbara quietly mumbled into her chest. She felt her eyes well with tears, and took a deep breath. She had been alone for just over half an hour, over ten minutes of that she spent crying from fear of Frankie's wellbeing, frustration for not knowing what happened, and anger for predicting it would be tied to Greg and his drug ring. She had so much tension building inside of her she knew it would be let out on someone eventually, she just had to make sure it was the person who deserved it the most.

Grayson knew she needed a distraction. Alone on rooftops during endless nights of patrolling, she would get aggressively attached to a case. If he wasn't in her ear relieving tension, he knew she would snap. Tonight was no different.

"So, how's the thesis coming?" He kicked himself. He couldn't have sounded more fatherly, more bumbling. This was Babs. His best friend. He'd known her since grade school. And the best he could do was ask about homework? Luckily, her need for distraction was well outweighed by her ability to detect his awkwardness.

"Fine."

He thought he'd try again.

"Babs, that take down of Mount St. Douchebag tonight was class act. I was fairly impressed." Success. A small grin emerged onto Barbara's grave face remembering the actions only a couple hours ago.

"I'm fairly certain if I hadn't made the first move, you were on your way over to break his nose. At least my way, his face stayed in tact."

"But not his ego. Much more damaging for a man like that," Grayson added. Finally she laughed. She looked up from her coffee, connecting with his deep, ocean blue eyes. They always had a glimmer to them, as if speckled with a dust of diamond.

"So," Barbara started slowly. "Are we just not going to address the kiss?" His face lit up.

"I kissed you, Babs. Get over it," he playfully poked at her. She jabbed his shoulder harder than she had intended.

"Yes. You did. You need to stop doing that," they were both smiling at each other, wondering if either would break and be serious for a moment.

"Not a chance, Gordon," Grayson leaned back in his chair, bringing one leg up, ankle perched on his other knee. He wrapped his arm around Barbara's shoulders, lightly pulling her in. Her head landed on his chest. Grayson bent his head down, his lips nestled into her hair. He could smell her shampoo; bergamot and mint. He adored her smell. He adored her.

"Where did you go two years ago?" Barbara asked. She hadn't moved from his hug, her head was burrowed in his chest. Her tone was not what he expected; lonely, not angry. She deserved an answer for his absence.

"I needed to leave Gotham. It was the right time. You were holding your own, Jason didn't need a watchful eye, at least not by me," Grayson tried his hardest to explain himself, but felt he was coming up short. He took a long breath, and Barbara let him take his time.

"This is going to sound ridiculous. But I didn't know who I was. I was defined by Robin. And Nightwing. But I couldn't tell you what it meant to be Dick. So I left. I did some soul searching, I guess you could say. Found out what life is like outside of Wayne Manor. I'm going to be honest with you, it's shitty. Having a butler is nothing to scoff at," Grayson felt a chuckle escape Barbara. She stayed silent though, waiting for him to finish. He took a deep breath.

"I was lost, Barbara. I was surrounded by violence, so I became it. I was turning in to someone I thought was inhuman. I thought if I had said goodbye, to you, to Jason, to Bruce, I wouldn't have been able to leave. So I disappeared. And I feel terrible I left that way. I hope you believe that," she looked up at him, adjusting to sit back in her chair. She turned her body to face his, bringing one knee up to her chest, curling her arms around her leg.

"Of course," she said quietly.

"But what?" He knew she had something to say to him. Something she didn't have the chance to say before he left or since he'd come back.

"When you came back, you didn't apologize. You left me, alone, without any answers. Every night I was worried. It took everything in me to believe you weren't dead. In the end, it was easier to think you were. Dead. I pretended, so that I could move on. And then, one night, you're there. No 'hey, Babs,' no 'sorry I've been gone for 15 months,' no 'I'm happy to see you.'"

"Hey," Grayson stopped Barbara. "I did say I was happy to see you."

"Fine." Barbara's memory of him hopping on his bike after helping her take down nine guys during a drug deal in progress, then casually turning to her saying 'good to see you,' before speeding out of view, did not qualify as a satisfying reunion. But she wasn't going to push the issue.

"You're right," Grayson sighed, seeing her face flush while she held back her true anger at him. He knew she was right. And he needed to admit it aloud.

"Babs, I'm sorry. I was cowardly for not saying good bye. It was the easy solution." He saw the tension release from her shoulders as if she'd been holding on to this moment with anticipation for the last ten months.

"Truth be told," he took a pause while he brought his hand up behind her neck, caressing his thumb just under her earlobe. "If I had gone to say goodbye to you, I wouldn't have left. I would stay and I would get worse. And I would either drag you down with me, or lose you forever."

Barbara wanted to forgive him. She wanted the last two years to disappear, to forget her pain, his suffering, their loneliness. She wanted to go back to the last time she had seen him before he left.

The happy memory dashed away quickly as both their heads whipped around at the sound of the swinging door hitting the concrete walls. A slim doctor came out holding a chart by her hips. She was no taller than Barbara, her blonde hair in a high, messy bun. Her scrubs were clean save for a small stain by her ankle, and her coat was a spotless white.

Barbara sprang up to meet her.

"Barbara Gordon?" The doctor referenced her chart for the name of admitting attendee. Barbara nodded, silently awaiting the news.

"I'm Dr. Grace Allen, the attending physician here tonight. Frankie will be fine," the doctor started. Good move, doc, Grayson thought to himself as he noticed Barbara visibly letting out a long breath.

"There are high traces of epinephrine in her blood steam, that would have spiked her adrenaline. Glucose levels were also abnormally high for someone with her health history. And it says here you claimed her pupils were dilated before she passed out?" Barbara nodded as Allen read the admittance notes from

Frankie's chart.

"It sounds like she was scared of something. Or someone. All signs point to her brain sensing an immense amount of fear. She's still unconscious though. We'll run further tests and call you when she wakes up. You did the right thing bringing her here, Barbara. I'll look after her." Doctor Allen directed her gaze at Grayson, her voice dropped the professionalism: "Tell your dad I say hi." She smiled as she flipped her chart closed and turned to disappear behind the swinging grey doors.

Grayson stood up behind Barbara, immersing her tired body in his arms. She let her weight fall into his grip; their last conversation forgotten for another time.

"I'll be okay." She pushed away from his hold to take a seat. She knew she would be here for at least another few hours. She couldn't bring herself to leave just yet.

She looked up at Grayson, who was starring at the wall behind her. She could tell his mind was searching through every word the doctor had given them, already looking for a clue.

"You can head home," Barbara reassured Grayson.

"I know," he said, coming out of his daze, as he took a seat beside her again. He grabbed his coffee, resting his elbows on his knees. Barbara placed her hand on his back, feeling his breath move up and down slowly. This is just where he wanted to be.


	8. Chapter 8

Barbara opened her eyes at the sound of a slow, repetitive beep. Fluorescent lights glared into her retinas; her hand intuitively rubbed her eyes to erase the headache they immediately caused. She was curled up over two plastic chairs, her hip jabbed by the metal division raised slightly higher than the bucket seats, enough to misalign her body after an incapacitated and ill timely rest.

She wanted to leap into action last night, but her eyelids resisted again her will. When Grayson suggested she lay down for a moment before they proceeded with their investigation, she complied. Within moments she was unconscious.

She recalled falling asleep with her head in Graysons lap, but awoke with a soft, hospital white pillow propping her up. Grayson had moved one chair over, her head replaced by a slim, matte black laptop, a flash drive sticking out the side. The same flash drive Barbara had tucked in her bra.

Grayson only noticed her breaking her slumber when she sat upright beside him.

"When-?" Barbara croaked out, glancing at the laptop.

"After you fell asleep. It was just in the back of my car. Hope you don't mind I helped myself to our findings." Grayson's playful look travelled to Barbara's chest.

"Not at all. What's the news?" Barbara lifted the pillow and shifted over to the chair beside Grayson. She had to strain her neck to properly see the screen. Wayne Tech required privacy protection on every device. Smart move by Fox, Barbara admired, but tedious in moments like this.

"Greg's life is a fucking mess," Grayson stated. "His appointment calendar is impossible. Nothing is colour coded. Like, make a distinctive event flow, buddy" Grayson sighed as he flipped through the last few months of randomly noted appointments searching for a name or place he deemed relevant.

"May I?" Barbara held out her hand. With a heavy sigh, Grayson relinquished the computer to her. He stood up, arching his back. Plastic chairs were not meant to function for long periods of stay; especially not 5 hours of uninterrupted hard drive searching. He figured he would let her work.

The hospital was much quieter now as Grayson strolled down the hall to a wall of vending machines. Most of the snack rows were empty, and there was no way he was pouring an ingestible coffee from these machines. He decided to walk the two blocks to Jitters, knowing Barbara wouldn't notice his absence.

He walked into the dawn of the city, his most preferred time of day in Gotham. There was a coolness that hung in the morning air that made him wish he'd grabbed his jacket when fetching the laptop. With his Porsche parked in the opposite direction, Grayson decided to quicken his pace rather than go back.

As he stood in the short line, he pondered his usual suspects. There were the typical drug lords in Gotham, but he didn't think they would deal with the frat boys. Everyone had their preferences. So what was the reason for this connection, Grayson mulled over the link as he stirred the sugar into Barbara's cup.

Heading out of the coffee shop, the city had awoken further. More people rushed passed him, bright eyed for the day ahead. He had a hunch as to the mastermind, but didn't want to lead Barbara on the wrong path unnecessarily. He needed more proof. He needed to see what she had uncovered.

Luckily, and as per usual, she worked fast. She glanced up as he approached her, feet crossed underneath her with the laptop resting on her knees. Her face brightened as she saw the cup of coffee in his hand, absentmindedly reaching her hand out in gratitude.

"That's the look of someone with a lead," Grayson smiled at her.

"The Rossum building," Barbara paused to take a sip of her coffee. "He makes almost daily stops there. Either a meetup point for his lackeys or where he gets the supply."

"How'd you figure that?"

"Every time he synced his phone, it downloaded the gps tracker. From his fitness app. He literally drew me a map." She was always proud of the level of stupidity she found in criminals.

"Babs, he's a student. What if he was going to classes? You can't be certain he would only be there for the drug deals."

"The Rossum Building is sciences. Mainly computer sciences, but also has a chem and bio lab on the top two floors," Barbara paused, seeing if Grayson would catch on. "Greg majors in art history. No chance he was setting foot in Rossum for a class. Especially not that frequently."

"Then let's go," Grayson reached for the laptop Barbara had already closed, handing out to him. His urgency matched hers, as the two moved their way through the the emergency room into the bright daylight.


	9. Chapter 9

As Grayson pulled into the lot nearest the Rossum Building, Barbara shut the laptop. She had spent the long rush hour traffic ride searching for a name on Greg's hard drive. She couldn't comprehend an art history major frat boy running a new drug ring from inside GSU on his own. So far she had come up with nothing; either he was too smart to leave any trace of his boss's name, or too lazy.

They both stepped out of the car, Barbara already on route to the building's entrance. Grayson grabbed his leather jacket from the trunk, catching up to the red head with a few bounding steps. He passed his jacket to her. Without missing a beat, and both looking forward at their target, Barbara handed the laptop to Grayson as she took his jacket, swinging her bare arms into the soft, buttery leather. She convinced Grayson not to stop at home to change. She didn't want a chance of missing Greg stopping in for his daily meetup.

They both took a seat at a well placed bench: across from the courtyard entrance, close enough to see the two large wooden doors, yet angled appropriately that Barbara could see fully down the west side of the building while Grayson kept an eye on the crowds approaching from their left.

Barbara checked her watch. 9:38am. She figured they had at least two hours until they had a chance of their guy showing up. She already felt herself becoming antsy; she needed a distraction.

"About last night," she started in a quiet tone, unsure if Grayson would hear her over the bustle of the courtyard.

"Which part? The kiss, the apology, the you not forgiving me?" Grayson kept his eyes scanning the crowd; his tone was flat, but still had a spark of gaiety.

Barbara winced. She knew he was teasing her, but she felt guilt for not forgiving him in the hospital.

"I'm sorry. I'm not happy about what you did, and I may not fully understand it -"

"Gee, you're sure being awfully forgiving there," Grayson interrupted her. She quickly glared at him.

"It's part of the job, Grayson. The violence. I get that more than anyone else. You wouldn't have dragged me down." Barbara spat out. She wanted to believe what she was preaching, but felt a gnawing in her gut that she was lying.

"It's not just the violence, Babs." Grayson was still quiet; calm. "I did things, for him, that I thought was in the name of justice. Every time I put on the Robin suit, a part of who I was stopped being; and this numb, cruel thing took over. It sought out criminals and didn't care about finding true justice, but dealing out punishment on his behalf. I felt sick with who I was becoming." Grayson stopped talking. Barbara looked beside her, at her best friend, speaking in a way she had never heard before. He was sad over who he'd become over the years. She reached over, placing her hand over his. They sat in silence, her not knowing how to respond and him relishing her presence.

"I'm glad your back. And I'm glad you felt you could come back." She squeezed his hand in hers.

"Nightwing helps," Grayson stated. Barbara had never put thought in to the change of persona. She always assumed with Jason moving through the ranks, becoming Robin, it was just a natural movement for Grayson. Little did she realize the deeper psychological meaning it could have had for him.

Barbara turned to look at Grayson, who was looking over her shoulder. He spotted someone.

"He's here. At your 5. 4. Your 3. He's running." Barbara turned to see if she could spot Greg. He had a navy blue sweatshirt, gold writing; clearly a GSU hoodie. Tight sweatpants and sneakers completed his gym rat look. No hat, so Barbara could see his close cut, styled hair that he sported in his latest social media posts. He made a beeline for the Rossum Building, stopping at the corner. Leaning one hand on the brick, using his other to grab his foot, he started to stretch out his hamstrings. After a moment, he pulled out his phone, quickly scrolling through his notifications, while glancing at the entrance to his right.

Barbara stood up. With every step she took towards him, she saw Frankie's terrified look, pleading with her for help. Barbara was going to get answers. By any means necessary.

"Hey! Greg?" Barbara jogged the last few steps, raising her hand in a polite wave. Her voice was an octave higher, and she put on a slight inflection to every word. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

Greg looked up from his phone, taking out one earbud to hear her better. He was initially confused by her candor, but shifted into delight once he saw the pretty girl approaching him.

"Hey cutie-" Greg played along with Barbara's game, but was cut off when she wrapped her fist around his collar, yanking him around the corner, slightly hidden from the bustle of the distracted students running to class. She slammed his body into the brick wall, stunning him into silence. Her hand still gripped his collar.

"You're selling the drugs, right? Who's your supplier?" Barbara's voice shifted back to normal.

"What drugs?" Greg's voice sounded idiotic. Barbara cringed at the level of stupidity.

"Last night, at your frat's party, a girl ended up in the hospital, unconscious, because of the drugs you're peddling. So let me know who your boss is, and I'll settle this score with him." Barbara put more pressure on his throat. "Unless you're top dog, then I'll handle his right now."

Grayson watched her handy work. Tough, but graceful. Even swimming in his leather jacket, she looked powerful.

She slowly walked back towards the bench where he patiently waited her return.

"Well that was too easy," she said when she got in his earshot.

"Crane?"

"Oh, you read lips now too?" Barbara stopped, placing her hands on her hips.

"I've always read lips, Babs. More of an educated guess. But I'm right, right?"

"Yeah," she tried not to let her disappointment in herself trickle out in her tone. Of course it was Jonathan Crane. Who else would deal with moronic college students as thugs, and lead trails of fear in their wake. "He sang like a canary. I barely had to touch him."

"Did you get a location?" Grayson stood and the two walked back towards the car.

"Negative. He didn't know anything passed the name. I don't even think he realizes who Crane is. He just meets here for someone to come out of Rossum, hand him the drugs, and then he deals it out. He says it's a different person every time so he doesn't know who the middle man is. So obviously the lab in Rossum is producing the drugs. But Crane wouldn't be stupid enough to work out of it himself, right?"

"So I'll pick you up tonight? Recon the building. See if we can get inside the lab, maybe find more intel?" Grayson took the words out of her mouth. It felt good to have them working together again. And to think, she was going to keep this fun all to herself.


	10. Chapter 10

Barbara lead Grayson along the side of the Rossum Building. They kept close to the wall, hidden in the shadows. The moon was full creating just enough light for her to see a path. She slowed as they approached the corner, peering her masked head around to see any approaching danger. She saw one security guard walking slowly in their direction, doing a routine patrol of the campus. From her time as a student at GSU, Barbara remembered walking home in the early hours of the morning comforted that a group of friendly, if not incredibly competent, guards circled the main buildings at every hour of the night.

She held up her yellow gloved hand in a fist, letting Grayson know to hold his position. He patiently waited behind her. She stood against the cool brick, her back flush on the wall, and closed her eyes. Slowly taking a breath in through her nose. She counted to fifteen in her head. Her eyes shot open as she pivoted around the corner, surprising the guard who was less than a foot away from Batgirl as her fist landed on his jaw. He hit the pavement with a solid thud.

Barbara grabbed his ankles and Grayson stepped out to circle around the body, grabbing his bulky shoulders. They lifted him with little effort, moving him just out of view from the main path. Barbara was confident he would wake in a few moments, enough time for them to enter the building, now undetected.

Grayson jogged up to the large wooden doors, yanking one open with a loud creak in the night's silence. Barbara followed, ducking under his arm as he held the door open for her to squeeze past him. She lead them both down a long hallway to the bank of elevators, her combat boots squeaked on the clean tile. She hit the Up arrow, immediately summoning the door to open. They stepped in sync into the large elevator, Barbara reaching out to hit the top floor.

"That was easy," Grayson chuckled. Barbara rolled her eyes at him, but smiled. The elevator was brightly lit, which always threw her off when on missions; her eyes needed to adjust to the fluorescents. She leaned back, resting her head on the wall. She glanced over at Grayson who stood slightly in front of her. Her eyes travelled down his suit, something she never usually saw in such clear lighting. The weave in his suit was perfect for the former acrobat; her leather jacket was at times too stiff for fighting. The jet black colour made the blue of his logo pop. She has to admit to herself, he was making up style points from his Robin costume. Nightwing was far and above a better look for him. His neck was partially exposed and she suddenly had an urge to reach out and run her hands up his shaggy raven hair. The loud ding of the elevator doors snapped her thoughts back to the matter at hand.

Grayson reached both hands behind his shoulders, gripping his two Escrima sticks that were secured to his back. He slowly pulled them out as he surveilled the hallway in front of them. Barbara let him lead the way.

The empty hallway lead out to a large foyer that branched out to the left and right. In the centre was a large security desk, two chairs abandoned for the night. Barbara let her guard down, causally strolling past Grayson, heading to the empty desk. There may be a com log of people entering the main lab that could prove useful, she thought.

As she passed the threshold to the foyer, she felt Grayson grab her shoulders.

His sticks angled over her ears as he held both them and her shoulders in his hands. She crouched down against him as he pulled her back to the hallway behind them. She heard noises from every angle; loud cracks, thumping, and echoing rings as bullet casings hit the tile ground. Seemingly endless firing, the two kept their position just out of range, as the wood of the security desk splintered and tiled walls snapped.

"What did we walk into?" Grayson said into her ear. Barbara couldn't comprehend what could be so important to guard, but she didn't have time for this. The gunfire ceased; Grayson and Barbara stood simultaneously. She ran out to the left, Grayson taking the slightly farther right hallway.

Barbara knew the gunmen would be expecting retaliation. She grabbed a small orb from her pouch, which gripped tightly to her thigh, as she slid fairly easily across the tile, coming up just short of one thug reloading his gun with a new clip. As she threw the orb further down the hallway, she grabbed the back of the guy's knee, pulling towards her so his feet became unstable and he slammed down hard on the floor. She pivoted to her knees, mounting his chest and landed a solid hit across his face. His head slumped down, unconscious. Barbara safely placed her hands on either side of his head, lifting her torso up, kicking her legs overhead until they hit the ground. She hadn't done a front handstand flip for quite some time, impressing herself she still had it in her.

The hallway had filled with a dense white smoke. Barbara looked at the ground, searching for the shadows of her attackers. She saw one on her left. This part was always the crapshoot for her: she stepped towards the shadow, reaching her left hand out grasping for the body in front of her. Luckily, she landed on his shoulder, surprising him enough that should could deliver a hard blow to his temple. When she felt his weight shift, she pulled her left hand down, her right hand holding his shoulder blade as her knee collided with his sternum. He collapsed on to the floor. Barbara breathed a sigh of relief. She never had much training with fighting in smoke, but it always proved a useful tool.

She ran back to the foyer in time to see Nightwing being held from behind by a man almost two feet taller than himself. He lifted one foot on to the wall in front of him, then the other. Slowly he walked up the side of the wall, until he had enough leverage to flip over the thug's head, reaching to grab on of his sticks that were securely attached to his back again. He held the metal bar against his perp's throat, his forearms struggling against the power of muscle twitching under his grasp. Slowly, the giant's body lilted, and Nightwing released his stick, placing it back in the holder behind him. Four bodies now lay unconscious around Grayson.

He rejoined Barbara at the now bullet ridden security desk.

"I ask again, what did we walk into?" Grayson still looked on edge, listening for more footsteps.

"Well," Barbara looked to her left at a large frosted glass door, with a numerical pinpad. "Seems like that is our best bet."

She walked over to the pinpad; Grayson followed a moment later.

"How are we handling this one? Simple hack, probably. I think I've got something useful." As Grayson mumbled more to himself than her, Barbara started typing.

7-3-5-8-1-3.

The door let out a bzzt, the lock clicking open. Grayson looked at Barbara stunned.

"Greg has a code written in his notes. I took a chance," Barbara shrugged.

"Eidetic memory strikes again," Grayson teased. He started to pull the door handle, but paused. He looked down at Barbara, who was listening for activity on the other side. She heard some shuffling, but couldn't tell if they were armed like their guard friends in the hallway. She looked at Grayson, who signalled for her to head straight, he would cover the left side. He counted down with his fingers from three, yanking the door open hard, giving Barbara space to run down the middle of the lab. She saw a tall man in front of her, holding a semi automatic gun near his hips, pointing down. Clearly not ready for their spring attack. She used her momentum to spring frontwards, placing her hands on his shoulders, lifting her body over his, landing gracefully on her feet behind him. She pivoted to one foot, kicking him squarely on his lower back. He propelled forward, the gun skidding across the floor well out of reach. She took two steps forward, landing a knockout kick to the side of his face.

Turning around, Barbara saw one more thug come around from the side of a long table, littered with papers and test tubes. He had his fists up, and a large smirk across his face.

"Seriously? Batgirl? What are you gonna do, sweetheart?" He scoffed at her.

Barbara tilted her head slightly, bringing her hands up, palms facing the ceiling. She gave a large shrug.

"Gee, I don't know," she said in her most sappy voice. She even pouted her bottom lip a little.

The man started to approach her, fists still poised to attack. She stood her ground, hands now on her hips. His feet shuffled underneath him, inching closer to the masked woman. When he was a foot away from Barbara, she swung her hips, bringing her right fist straight forward to connect with his left eye. His was stopped in his tracks as if he hit an invisible wall, then hit the floor, body limp at Barbara's feet.

From across the room, she heard metal clanging against metal as Grayson handcuffed a man in a white lab coat to a table. He was sitting on the floor, his arm slightly lifted as his wrist dangled from Grayson's cuffs. Barbara stood beside Grayson, both looking down and the wilted man.

"Tell us everything," Barbara demanded.

"I don't know anything," the man whimpered.

"Bullshit," she spat back. She really didn't have time for this. "What are you making here? Who's in charge? Tell us!"

"I swear. Don't kill me," he sniffled. He was looking at the floor, curling his legs under him. Grayson believed him. He seemed truly scared.

"Batgirl, wait," he touched Barbara's shoulder. She shrugged off his touch, crouching down to meet her captive's eyes.

"Listen to me," she tried to soften her tone. "There are people out there taking whatever it is you're making. It's making them scared, sick. My friend is in the hospital because of you. You need to help me stop this. Give up the name." The man looked up at Barbara, deep into her eyes. She saw flecks of green in his irises, his face was flushed. He had tears forming in his eyes.

"I'm just a technician. I get paid. I come to work." He paused, looking up at Grayson, then back at Barbara. "I'm making a drug?"

Grayson grabbed Barbara's wrist, pulling her up and over, out of earshot.

"He clearly is just a lackey. We're not getting anything out of him."

"What if he's lying," Barbara asked. "If I let him go, who's to say he won't inform his boss? Nightwing and Batgirl attacked the lab; they could pack up and our lead is dead in the water."

"I'm letting him go," Grayson walked over, unclasping the handcuffs. He lifted the man up by his collar, pushing him towards the door.

"Do me a favour, don't come back here. What you're doing, it's not for the greater good. Find a new job." He watched as the man stumbled out of the lab, the frosted door shutting securely behind him.

"Don't worry, Babs," Grayson grinned back at her disapproving face, "I put a tracker on his collar. If he does go back to his boss, he'll just be leading us right to him."

"Fine," she threw her hands up dejectedly. "Let's see what evidence we can find in this mess." Barbara looked around the lab. Locating the nearest computer, she got to work as Grayson sifted through the papers strewn across the workbenches. This would prove to be another long night for the duo.


	11. Chapter 11

Grayson threw a handful of shipping forms down on the table nearest Barbara. She was pouring herself into a computer screen, nearly oblivious to his presence beside her. Her brow was furrowed as her fingers clicked furiously across the keys. He could sense her frustration climbing with each route she went down leading to a dead end.

"Babs," he sighed her name like he'd done so many times over the years when their leads weren't panning out fast enough for either one. With the adrenaline pumping, it felt like a waste when he couldn't put it to good use by discovering and subsequently detaining the baddie.

She shook her head. Even with just the one word, she knew he was stopping. She couldn't quit though. Not with Frankie still in the hospital. Not with her still unconscious and Barbara not knowing the repercussions of the drug. She might never wake up. Barbara's thoughts jumbled in the back of her mind. Worry danced with paranoia, and frustration tried to cut in, but Barbara tried to stay focussed on her task at hand. She would not give up.

Nightwing's glove rested on her shoulder. She didn't look at Grayson, couldn't manage to look him in the eyes and admit to him and herself that their search was coming to a dead end and without any proof on Crane. She just needed one piece of evidence and she would feel justified. The word of frat boy Greg was not enough for her to go after the Professor.

"Without proof I can't do anything to Crane," Barbara said while still looking straight ahead.

"Do to him? Barbara what exactly do you want to do to him?" Grayson voice was dripping with concern.

"I want him to be punished. I want him arrested. I want him to rot in blackgate." Barbara knew her anger was seeping out as she spat those words through gritted teeth. She saw flashes of her fists meeting Crane's jawline, smashing his bones, breaking his will. She couldn't express to Grayson her true anger, not with the overwhelming urge to violently break Crane. She felt embarrassed that Nightwing was able to step back from the violence, as she started tumbling down in his place. She wanted to tell him her true desires; she figured if anyone would understand how she was feeling, Grayson would be the most empathetic. He'd been in her position multiple times before, felt the rage that was bubbling through her blood. But she held back. Their talk in the hospital led her to believe he would not be on her side.

His hand squeezed her shoulder, bringing her thoughts back to her search.

"Let's find Crane. Get him to talk." His voice was deep; calming.

Barbara let out a sigh. As if this wasn't her plan the whole time.

"And how are you going to find him? I've been searching the lab's computer since we got here and there isn't even a hint of Crane's name on anything."

"I've got my ways." Grayson picked up the shipping receipts he'd dropped on the counter. He had also managed to pocket a vial of green liquid he would get analyzed. He knew she wouldn't rest until she had someone to hold accountable. Her tunnel vision was helpful at times, but tended to veer into obsessive territory if left for too long. Frankie's involvement exacerbated her drive. They needed this ended before she spiralled.

"Bat-tech?"

"Something like that," he smirked. He pulled her up from the stool she was perched on, holding on to her elbow. "Meet me at the safe house in The Narrows. Tomorrow night."

Babs hesitated as they reached the door for two reasons; she was unsure if the guards in the hallway would still be unconscious or awaiting their departure, and she had an instinct Grayson was leaving her out of their mission. She wasn't about to let him scoop up this as a win for him. She wanted in, even if that meant another night of little rest.

Grayson's hand paused as he reached for the door. They both listened in silence. No shuffling, no grunting, nothing but quiet. The guards were still out. He pushed the door open, carefully peeking out in both directions, ensuring the coast was clear. Babs let out the breath she was holding ceremoniously as she walked slowly behind Grayson. Heading to the elevator, she felt her body crying out from the last 72 hours. She leaned against the wall while Grayson reached out to hit the Down button. Her dejected spirit coursed throughout; she felt her muscles contracting, the adrenaline leaving her body with the hope of meeting her bed shortly. Her mind screamed to keep going, but she knew Grayson was leading her home and she felt herself tagging along willingly.

The crisp air touched the small area of exposed skin on her face when they opened the large wooden doors. The early hour meant the campus was still deserted, they were able to walk quietly to Nightwing's bike without passing another person. The campus security guard must have woken; the hiding spot they left him was empty. Probably embarrassed, or out of apathy, he never notified anyone, or checked around for the intruders. Barbara welcomes the laziness of law enforcement most nights; it made her job that much easier.

Starting up the bike, Grayson sensed she was defeated. They spent so much time quickly linking pieces of the puzzle that this stall in momentum crushed her enthusiasm. He also knew she wouldn't give up, but her brain needed rest as much as her body did. Her fingers linked together across his stomach as she clung on to him from behind; even through his armour, he felt her head resting on his back. He took the back roads to her apartment, parking in his usual spot under the fire escape that lead to her bedroom window. He was always curious if she requested that room specifically to give Batgirl an easy exit every night. He felt her slide off the back of his bike as he turned off the engine. When he didn't get off behind her, she turned around quickly. A small smirk escaped his lips; it made him happy to know she wanted him to follow.

"I'm going to hit up my contacts before I get some rest myself. I should hear from them before tomorrow night. We'll meet up, get answers from Crane." Barbara took a step towards Grayson as he spoke. She stood only inches away from him. He could smell her scent, feel the heat coming off her body in the cool air surrounding them. She pulled her cowl off, letting her hand fall down, the purple leather flopping to the ground. Her fiery hair was tussled from the unmasking, he reached out to smooth it down. Her right hand moved up to grab his wrist. He paused, bringing his hand down to cup her face, which looked full of sadness. Her eyes were glistening with tears, but none fell.

"Thank you," she whispered. Grayson clung to her words, so soft and wistful, like they were breath itself. "I know I'm obsessing, but with Frankie-" her voice cracked as tears started dripping onto her cheekbones. She didn't sob, or reach up to wipe away the tears, she just let them fall. Grayson pulled her towards him, a bit awkwardly as he was still straddling the bike. Her arms flung around his neck, and he squeezed her close, his face nuzzled into her mane. He felt her body shake as she took a deep breath, stopping her crying. She pulled away after a moment, her face streaked with glistening tears.

"I'm okay," she said more to herself than to him. She bent down to pick up her cowl. Stuffing it in her belt, she walked the few steps to the fire escape's hanging ladder. She leapt up a few feet, sticking her leg out to push off the brick wall, giving her just enough momentum to reach the bottom rung. She climbed up a few more rungs before she could swing her legs up and ascend the rest of the way. Once she got to the first landing, it was a casual jog up the stairs to her window. Barbara figured it would have been easier for her to walk through the front door, but this seemed more natural while she was wearing her gear; a climb that had become habit from routine.

She was half way in her warm bedroom before she thought to turn around. Nightwing sat below, still on his bike, watching her performance up the metal casing. He didn't look away until she fully entered her room. Once both feet were securely on the floor and she started untying her boots, did she hear the engine start up below her.

She sat on her bed listlessly. Stillness engulfed her. Quiet. She closed her eyes, feeling an ache in her right shoulder blade, a bruise on her left knee. She unzipped her leather jacket, tossing it beside her yellow boots. Her belt unclipped, letting her cowl fall on to the floor by her feet. She flopped on her back, arms folded over her chest. She listened to her breathing. Slowing her mind down was always a difficult task. She thought of Frankie's face masked in terror, of the sour sweat smell pouring off Greg as she held him for questioning, of Grayson's hand, lightly resting on her shoulder.

Her mind lingered on this last thought. He was right. Being Nightwing has given him a new air of restraint. He seemed patient, less impulsive. He soothed her frustrations with his touch, distracted her from compulsive investigating. His head was more level, he was more balanced. As Robin he would have no problem going after Crane without proof. In his black and blue he was thinking more like her dad: a cop. Although, bringing in a suspect and pressing him for information was never outside the realm of action for a GCPD officer. Depending what Grayson dug up on his own, it may very well be her next path. Shine a light on Crane, get him to crack and admit his guilt. Even if she had to go it alone, she would get answers. She would find him and break him.

She was thinking too much again. Barbara took a deep breath, trying to quiet her mind. She slowed her heart rate down, taking long, slow breaths. She listened to the calming beats of her heart as her consciousness drifted away. Her last thought was of Grayson's soft lips on hers. A small smile emerged as she fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

A deep boom crashed into her ears, jolting her upright. Her senses peaked as she looked around the darkened room. Dawn was slowly breaking through the opened window, a blue hue coated the dim light outside. The air was damp and smelled of fresh rain. She paused, listening for another noise to follow the loud break of silence. She was alone.

Three quick raps against the door were muffled, but loud. Not her bedroom door, her front door. Barbara leapt up, slamming open her door and ran the few steps through her living room, opening the front door to the building's hallway. Leaning against the outer frame, Nightwing propped himself up with an elbow, his other arm wrapped around his midsection, hand grasping his right side. Quickly, Barbara lent her body for support, leading her injured partner to the couch without a word. A low groan escaped Grayson's clenched jaw as he hobbled the few steps before slumping down into the worn in leather.

She moved to the bathroom, flickering on the light to illuminate the porcelain sink. The cupboard underneath had her first aid kit. She grabbed the small box and ran a face cloth under the tap for a moment. Her movements were swift; she returned to Grayson's side in moments, kneeling down by his stomach. She left the bathroom light on, which provided enough visual for her to see the blackened blood coating his suit near a jagged tear.

His hand reached up to his face, removing the domino mask. He threw it on the floor out of frustration, clearly not happy with outcome of the last few hours.

"I'm going to have to take off..." Barbara's voice trailed off as Grayson was already trying to sit up, helping her get a better angle to lift off his armour. She curled her fingers under the hem of the shirt. Although a skin tight suit was good for mobility, removing said items provided an extra level of difficulty when one was stabbed. He had already taken off his gauntlets, which sat in the coffee table behind her. As she focussed on lifting the weaved cloth delicately over the cut, he had taken off his chest piece, letting it fall to the floor beside her knees. His arms lifted up, causing him to grimace at the pain of stretching his abdomen, so she moved hastily to slide the shirt over his head in one hurried motion.

She took a brief look at the incision before placing the face cloth against his skin, applying enough pressure to make him wince. She guided his left hand to replace hers, so she could focus her attention to the pharmacy grade first aid kit. He carefully lifted his legs on to the couch, leaning back against the armrest as she placed her kit on the table beside her, sighing heavily in her disappointment.

"Why did you come here? Why not go to Alfred?" She shot Grayson a small glare. Whenever one of them was injured, Alfred always made himself available to fix them up with accuracy and ease. She was no surgeon; had never even stitched up a stuffed animal when she was little. She would make a mess of him and probably make it worse.

"Too far," Grayson managed to get out. His voice was strained from pain. He was angry with himself. He made a stupid mistake, which forced him to come to a place where he had to admit he'd done wrong. And she would make him admit it.

"What happened?" Barbara used the question as a distraction tactic, while she cleaned out the cut. She didn't think the cut to be too severe. The protective weave did its job; stopping the blade from puncturing too deep.

"It was stupid. My contact in The Narrows, the one I was going to get you to meet tonight, got spooked. I didn't do anything to-" Grayson took a sharp intake of breath as she applied a light coating of iodine with a fresh compress. "Ow," he mumbled lowly while exhaling. Barbara couldn't help a small smile from slipping out.

"Anyway, it was closer to come here, then go back to the Manor."

"You let an informant get close enough to you to use a knife?" Barbara asked, genuinely shocked.

"I was distracted. I let my guard down. Normally I can trust this guy. He's reliable. He's worked with Crane in the past, but his wife had a kid a while back, so he's been trying to go straight. I've been helping him when I can."

The two fell silent as Barbara worked on mending him.

"I don't think you need stitches. At least not from me," Barbara looked up at Grayson. He was looking up at the ceiling, replaying the last few hours in his mind. "What spooked him?"

"I showed him the vial I stole from the lab last night."

"What vial?" Barbara has been focussed so intently on her search for evidence involving Crane's name, she missed a blatant clue right in front of her.

"I swiped a vial. Small, with green liquid. I figured it was just the next upgrade in Crane's fear toxin. Probably what they were adding to the drug. I was going to take it to get analyzed back at the Manor today."

"Perfect. We'll do that, and then have Alfred take a more thorough look at you." Barbara's spirits were lifting as she taped the last edge of the bandage across Grayson's oblique.

Grayson reached his hand out to grasp hers, forcing her to look at him as he broke the news: "I don't have it anymore. It's gone. Smashed."

She'd never seen his face more dejected. He felt like her hope lay dead in his hands. She had to cut him some slack.

"It's okay," she loosened his grasp on her hand, bringing her palm up to rest on his cheek. Her thumb caressed his skin gently.

"We can still find Crane. Try to get him to spill. The egotistical ones love telling us their plans."

He couldn't help the laugh from escaping his lips. He smiled down at her warmly, glad that she wasn't crushed by the events of the last two hours.

"Babs, I'm sorry. I took the last glimmer of hope in our lead and ruined it. I thought I could do this alone, but whatever Crane has up his sleeve is causing those around him to panic. Maybe that's why he started implementing middle men; not giving anyone more information than they needed to complete their individual step. We were getting close, but my actions tonight," Grayson paused, mentally preparing to admit something he hated to say out loud: "I screwed up. With Frankie involved, I wanted to get this done quickly. So you didn't have to worry. I just thought-"

Barbara leaned forward, placing her lips on his, silencing his explanations.

He had always pushed her to do better, challenged her to accomplish what she thought out of her grasp, whether physically or mentally. They both had the tendency to immerse themselves too far, dive too deep in a case. Her mind would constantly whir with information; suspects, crime scenes, motives. She wanted to stop worrying about Crane, about what would come next, and if she was being honest with herself, stop worrying about Frankie. At this moment, she wanted to stop thinking at all.

Her hand moved from Grayson's cheek slowly down to his neck. She felt his stubble coarse against her palm. She kept moving down his body. A shirtless Grayson was irregular for her to see. She had focussed so intently on his injury earlier, she didn't fully take in the acrobat's form lying on her couch. His Nightwing suit may be form fitting, but she could finally take a moment to appreciate his efforts over the years. Her hand trailed over his chest, solid and broad. His torso narrowed towards his pelvis; she ran her fingers over each abdominal indentation. She felt his breathing quicken as his hands grasped the back of her head, pulling her mouth closer to his. Their kiss became more intense, hungrier from the desire they'd shared. Every tease, flirtatious glance, playful sparing they'd exchanged all surged through this moment. His arm slid down to her waist, pulling her body closer to his. She shuffled awkwardly, trying not to break their kiss. He angled his body to sit up as she crawled on to the couch over his lap, her knees squeezing against his hips.

She still wore her batsuit's purple leggings, having passed out hours earlier without taking them off. He ran his hands up her thighs, feeling the soft leather like butter in his skin. He glided up further around her hips and landing on her lower back, pulling her body closer to his.

She let out a soft moan into his mouth. The sound rippled an uncontrollable urge throughout his body. He wanted her now, no more waiting. He grabbed her hips, turning his own from under her so as to pin her on the couch. They'd done moves similar to this in training, but this time he was far from their sparing ring in the batcave. He was engulfed in her scent, yearning to be closer to her.

Barbara took her legs, wrapping them around his hips. Her arms folded over his neck, fingers entwined in his tussled hair. Suddenly, he broke their kiss, pain cascading over his features. He pulled back, breaking the hold she had on him. He leaned back, sitting up against the arm rest opposite her. His hand instinctively went to the source of pain.

Barbara saw his bandage was tinted with red spots.

"Ow. Ow." Grayson grimaced. "Maybe I do need stitches." His mouth smirked in that typical smile he gave her when trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes. You do," she shot back. "You know I'm no good at this."

"I'll go see Alfred," Grayson looked up at her. Her hair was unkempt from her restless sleep and their early morning activity, but that made her all the more delightful to him. He thought for a moment if he could suffer through the pain and continue forward with their mutual desires. As he leaned forward slightly to test his limits, a searing pain cascaded through his side and he collapsed back against the armrest. She had a similar thought process, and upon seeing the grimace as he tried to fight through his pain, thought better of it.

"You need rest just as much as I do. A couple hours, then we'll get you patched up properly." Barbara reached over to carefully peel off the bandage, quickly replacing it with another from the opened first aid kit beside her. They both stood from the couch; closer then they normally would before. Grayson's hand ran down the side of her bare arm. He was only slightly taller than her, but still had to lean a bit to meet his lips to hers; this time his kiss was delicate. Her mouth was plump, full of blood from moments ago. Her hands kept pressure against his chest; not pushing, but feeling his muscles. He would give anything to have her right now, naked and on top of him. But with a quick break in the kiss, she turned abruptly, stepping over his gear still splayed out over the floor. She had traced further down his torso to grab his hand, leading him to her bedroom. Grayson followed close behind. The moment he saw the unmade bed, he wanted to lie down. The urge of sleep overcame every other desire. He placed his head down on a firm pillow and was immediately asleep. Barbara took an extra moment to change into an oversized t-shirt and crawled in beside him. It didn't take her long for sleep to find her as well.


	13. Chapter13

He woke up slowly; immediately uncomfortable, and slightly sweating. He walked over to her window, still opened from the night before. He bent down to perch on the window sill, letting the cool afternoon breeze tickle his bare skin. Grayson reflected over the night before and into the early morning. He berated himself for his impulsiveness; he knew he shouldn't have gotten too close to Henry, but he had never seen him spook so quickly. One moment they were talking about his daughter taking her first steps, and the next Nightwing had a small blade in his abdomen, the vial he was showing Henry slipping out of his hand, shattering on the tiled kitchen floor. The green liquid evaporated slowly as it mixed with oxygen, tumbling upwards transforming into a thick fume. He stood watching as if his world had slowed and he was stuck in a loop of regret. When he looked up in search of his friend - he scoffed at his own naivety of their relationship- Henry had disappeared, the front door around the corner swinging open. Trying to act quickly, Nightwing had covered his mouth with his hand, leaving along the path Henry had made. In the building's hallway, he knew he hadn't thought quick enough.

Bruce stood in the darkness around Dick, silhouetted by the moon's illumination peaking through a window at the end of the hall. Dick took two steps towards the figure, knowing it wasn't real; that Crane's fear toxin was infecting his mind, but couldn't control what came next.

Grayson took a deep breath, shaking his head to push out the images that ran through his mind, trying to focus on the present; this bedroom, the cool breeze, Barbara's sweet smell. He felt horrible coming here, knowing she was in pain herself, but he couldn't bring himself to go back to the Manor. Not yet. He didn't want to take the chance of Bruce being home. He needed distance from the conversation he had with his psyche. Logically, Grayson knew it was all in his mind; the exchange wasn't real, nor was his fear. He had been through this before with Crane, and it infuriated Grayson that every time he would face the same fear; have the same conversation, with the same result, and the same disappointment. He was tired of it.

He wanted to stop Crane as much as Barbara, but for him it would be personal. He didn't want to avenge a friend, or pursue justice, or help innocents in need. He strictly wanted Jonathan Crane gone so he would never have to go through that fearful illusion again. He felt the all too familiar rage creep in to his blood, his heart beat quickening slightly at the thought of putting Crane's head through a wall. Barbara stirring six feet away focussed Grayson back to reality.

Once she woke and made a strong pot of coffee, the two sat at the round dining table between the small apartment kitchen and living space, hands grazing slightly as they discussed a plan. Barbara hugged a large cup, steaming with fresh coffee and creamy sweetener. Grayson's fingers tapped against the wood, impatient to continue their search. Barbara insisted on Grayson getting a second medical opinion on his wound, as she was a terrible nurse and he wouldn't be much use as backup if he could barely throw a punch. When he insisted adrenaline would obviously take over and he would be fine, Barbara figured there was more to the casual avoidance than he was letting on. Luckily, he didn't pout for long, agreeing to ask Alfred for assistance while she dropped in on Frankie. Visiting hours would be over in an hour or so, with the afternoon turning in to dusk, so she quickly changed into jeans and loose tank top, throwing on a black zip up hoodie while stuffing her suit into a small duffel bag. Grayson wasn't as fortuitous with his clothing options. Having no desire to be seen midday driving his bike as Nightwing, Grayson packed his unused armour and torn shirt into a backpack Barbara had in her closet. She perused Frankie's room for anything resembling Grayson's size, landing on a tattered, but fairly large heathered grey hoodie left behind by Frankie's older brother. It was slightly too big on Grayson, which he considered a win.

"I'll meet you at the Manor in a couple hours. Just give me long enough to check on Frankie, maybe see if the doctors have any further information on the drug in her system." Barbara casually chatted as she filled a thermos with more coffee.

"How about I meet you at the hospital?" Grayson's texts with Alfred had requested 'in field assistance'. Alfred agreed with little prying, although Dick knew he would be interrogated in person. If he was forced to divulge his fears to one friend, he would rather it be with Alfred. He wasn't ready to tell Barbara yet, thus evading her questions of avoiding the Manor.

"Sure," Barbara's voice dripped with suspicion. Dick sighed a breath of relief when she didn't push the issue.

They headed for the door, bumping shoulders as they both reached for the knob. Dick managed a smile when her heard her laugh awkwardly.

"We don't have to make it weird between us," he felt like addressing the awkwardness would make the tension deplete. Luckily, he saw her shoulders release under her hoodie, and her lips curled slightly.

"But where would the fun be in that?" Barbara asked as Dick exited the apartment in front of her. She pivoted to lock the door. He stopped behind her, reaching out to hold her hips in his hands, leaning down slightly to kiss the nape of her neck. Her palm left the knob to press against the door frame, letting out a small moan before turning her body in his grasp. She moved her hands up to his face, giving him a short, but deep kiss. He knew she wanted more, and he would give anything to stay in her apartment for hours, but they both had a mission to complete.


	14. Chapter14

His hand gripped the steering wheel tight as his other texted Babs his arrival. He awaited impatiently to catch a glimpse of her red hair bouncing out of the visitor's entrance. His fingers tapped anxiously as she threw her duffel bag in the back seat, slamming the door just as he accelerated out of the parking lot, making a left uptown.

"What's the rush?" Barbara reached her arm back to her opened bag, grabbing her purple and yellow jacket. As she uncomfortably adjusted in the small confines of the Porsche, exchanging her hoodie for the bat emblem uniform, Grayson struggled to keep his glance forward.

"Pressing matters." Grayson foot weighed slightly heavier on the pedal, accelerating through downtown traffic in moments. Veering around brakes lights, taking any turn available, Grayson prided himself on the minimal time it took him to navigate them to the cluster of warehouses by the docks. Just as she tied up her last boot, he turned off the motor, parking beside a darkened building he had left just twenty minutes prior. As Barbara slid out of the car, Grayson had already lifted the trunk, swinging his chest armour over his head, and clipping his gauntlets onto his forearms. Grabbing his two sticks from a secure pouch against the side of the trunk, he closed the door to see Babs slipping on her cowl. He always admired her no questions attitude when on missions with him. Her trust in him ran deep; she leaned on his experience, and rarely pushed back when he took the lead. He was minutely stunned she let him take the reigns during this particular mission, but assumed she was glad to be acting, not thinking at the moment. He understood that urge more than most.

"Third floor," he directed her. She immediately took off, with him close behind. He'd left the locks open, confident his captor would still be unconscious, or at the least unable to remove the knots before his return.

Barbara's body hesitated upon entering the third floor. The door at the top of the stairs opened to a large, mostly empty room save for a few desks against the west wall. Two lights hung from the ten foot ceiling, crafting large circles of tungsten white over the floor. In the middle of the farther circle, sat a man in a dull brown suit, tied to a small wooden chair. His chin rested on his chest, signalling to her he was unconscious, or playing as such to take her off guard if she approached. His brown loafers had splatters of shiny blood on the tips. His arms were secured around his back so she couldn't see his hands. She couldn't see his face, or any distinguishing features, but she knew.

"Crane," Barbra looked back at Grayson, who had a small smile of pride.

She felt a solid heat building in her chest. She took a step forward.

This man, who used unsuspecting students to create his fear toxin. She took another step.

This man, who trafficked drugs to innocent kids. She took another step.

This man, who is the reason her best friend looked at her with horrifying fear and now lay comatose in a hospital bed.

She took a final step as her left hand grasped a tuft of hair, pulling his lilted head back, landing her right fist squarely on his jaw. She lifted her elbow back again, swinging her fist down, connecting her knuckle to his cheek bone. She hit him again, and again. Every time she saw Frankie's face, panic roaring in her widen eyes.

The skin between her first two knuckles had split, her own blood now mixed with Crane's. But she did not stop. His right eye was swollen, a brownish red colour from popped blood vessels. His nose had a small trickle of blood trailing down to his upper lip that had its own slit. His teeth were stained red, saliva dripping down his chin tinted a pink hue. Only when she felt Grayson's grip on her elbow did she relax, her whole body suddenly slipped into his arms as she felt the tears on her cheeks she hadn't realized were there.

"Stop. Batgirl, stop." She heard Grayson's voice; it was distant, muffled through the ringing in her ears.

"Yes, stop," a low whisper emerged from the bloody mouth of Crane. He was awake, bearing all of her blows without so much as a groan. Behind her she could feel Grayson stiffen. Something was wrong. He'd done something wrong.

She was knelt beside Crane's limp body, not fully comprehending that he spoke a moment ago. She saw his lips curl upward, as his shoulder dragged a loose hand to his lap. He had been toying with them. She felt a tug under her shoulder; Grayson was trying to lift her away from his captor, but her body was dead weight in his grasp.

Crane slowly reached into his lapel pocket, pulling out a small vial of ivy green liquid. Everything in Barbara urged her to reach out to secure the vial, but her muscles froze. The glass cracked as in hit the floor by her knees, a plume of smoke sifted through the air, reaching her mouth in moments. She breathed in the fumes; her vision twisted, her eyes became heavy, and her head collapsed against the hardwood as her sight pin-holed to darkness.


	15. Chapter15

She must not have been unconscious for very long, but when she woke Barbara's vision was still unclear. The room quickly shifted from left

to right and back again, as if jarringly rocking back and forth. Space seemed to shrink and expand haphazardly; she couldn't get her bearings until her eyes met the chair in front of her. Still tied up, the body remained defeated. Crane's little trick didn't work at helping him escape.

As Barbara stared at their captive, something was different than moments before. The hair was a bit longer, with patches of grey mixed into the brown. The suit was still a dull, lifeless brown, but underneath was a clean white shirt, splashed with red speckles of blood. Hers or his, she wasn't certain. There was now a glimpse of green suspenders under the jacket and further down clipped to the black, leather belt she saw a gold metal oval glistening in the overhead light.

An object she had seen so many times in her life she could identify it anywhere. As a child she had played with it, holding it out, pretending she could stop evil in its tracks. An object she knew was just that, an object, but it meant so much more to her. It signified justice and freedom. It signified a force of bravery. It signified her father. This man was wearing her father's detective badge.

This man was her father.

"No," was all she could croak out of her dry throat. She scrambled to her knees, inching around the back of the chair and her fingers nimbly reached for the knots around his wrist. She must have been out for much longer than a few moments for Crane to have left and come back with her father, only to torture her further. Or did Dad just show up? Had Nightwing called for backup when he saw Crane reach for the vial? Where was Grayson now anyway?

Barbara refocused herself on getting her dad to safety. She would worry about Crane when the time came. For now, she wouldn't let him hurt her dad the way he hurt Frankie.

"Batgirl, what are you doing?" The question came from her right - or was it her left? She didn't recognize the voice. It was too distorted, a mix of deep huskiness, almost raspy in its forcefulness, but also lighthearted, as if her actions were laughable. She ignored the disembodied voice as she loosened the last knot enough to slip her dad's right hand out of the ropes. His body was still limp. She tucked her shoulders under his arm, lifting as best she could. He was semiconscious now, so she didn't have to bear his whole 230-lbs frame, but disoriented. Crane had probably gassed him as well, before tying him up.

"Batgirl, stop!" She looked up to see a tall figure blocking the doorway. Her only exit from the vast room. Had she been alone she would have simply jumped out one of the large windows to her left, but with her father in tow, there was no other option than the staircase awaiting behind the figure. She took some of her weight from under his arm, her dad seemed to be standing fine without her. She blinked and he had stepped far enough back, allowing Batgirl to do what was necessary to help him escape. The blackened figure took a cautious step towards her, one arm outstretched as if approaching a caged tiger. She wasn't about to sniff his hand and become docile, not after his bloodied face became illuminated by the light. Crane. She was ready to bite.

Without hesitation she moved both feet in tandem to bring herself the few inches closer to him; close enough that she could pivot on her left foot and with her right, bring the force of her weight down on his calf, crippling his body onto his knee. She adjusted her hips from there to bring her left fist towards his temple, but his forearm came up just in time to block it. She tried switching her weight to her right, but foolishly left her mid section unguarded as his left palm smashed into her solar plexus, causing her to stumble back. She couldn't understand how he was so fast.

"Stop. You don't know what you're doing," the same voice she heard before travelled to her ears. It came from all directions, engulfing her with familiarity and obscurity at the same time. Crane's mouth moved in time with the words. Whatever trick he was performing on her now, she wouldn't succumb. She was getting past him.

Barbara looked over at her dad, supporting his weight against a wall, watching her. She motioned her head towards the door. She thought if she could distract Crane long enough, her dad could escape at least. Whatever happened to her didn't matter at this point. Luckily he was a quick study, pushing himself off the wall toward the opened door behind Crane. Barbara made her move, throwing a blow hard into Crane's right abdomen. He yelled out in pain, grasping his side as she threw her fist across his jaw. This brought him to the ground long enough for her to see her dad silhouetted in the door, but not moving. Crane's hand grazed her calf, but she distractedly kicked it away.

Another figure blocked the door now. Smaller than Crane, but packed just as hard a punch as he hopped into the air, bringing his foot up to meet Gordon's chest, the force propelling her dad back into the room. He landed hard on his back, arms up to his face, as the second man stepped over his body. He knelt down across her dad's stomach, grabbing his wrists and bringing them over his chest, zip tying them together.

She had to act quickly if she was going to get him to safety. Crane had composed himself slightly, now favouring his right side. She figured one more hard hit and he would be down long enough for her to take the other assailant. She planted her left foot behind her, swivelling her hips to bring her right foot in contact with Crane's damaged abdomen. Half and inch from contact her foot stopped. Her leg crashed to a halt as his two hands cupped her yellow boot. His left hand dragged up to her shin and with ease Crane used all of her former momentum to push her body away. His feet planted securely, his hips turned slightly, causing her to fly towards the wall to her left. The wall lined with abandoned desks. Her back met with the flimsy wood, the sound of cracking and snapping surrounded her as shards of wood flew by her vision. For the second time in less than an hour, she fell unconscious, this time starring at her dad's face. She failed him. But then why was he smiling?


	16. Chapter16

"What the fuck, Nightwing?" Robin was sitting on top of Crane, watching Dick as he flung Barbara across the room into a cluster of desks. She immediately dropped, motionless, as Dick turned to face him.

"She had the drop on me." His hand pressed against the now bleeding stab wound Alfred had spent twenty minutes skillfully stitching up. He could hear the British voice in his head; terrible waste. "She'd split open my stitches with that last hit. She knew my weakness, would have taken me down. Then you, probably, and let this asshole free." Grayson motioned to Crane, lying under Robin's full weight, a wide grin displaying his bloodied teeth from Barbara's earlier display of anger.

"Noted. But I doubt she'll forgive you for that," Robin laughed as he stood up. Walking over to Nightwing, they both surveyed their unconscious teammate.

"I don't think she knew it was me she was fighting. We both were dosed with Crane's toxin, something new he's been working on at GSU. Luckily I'd been hit last night, still had some anti-toxin in my system. Didn't effect me as bad as her." Grayson voice went quiet as his thoughts trailed off for a moment, recalling the little effect the fumes did have on him.

Robin looked up at Grayson. "Bruce?" Grayson nodded once in response. Jason knew what Dick saw, he'd told him once, but they never talked about any deeper meaning. Jason himself had never been hit with Crane's toxin, but when Dick had tried to figure out what his deepest fear was, Jason only responded by shrugging casually: "I don't like clowns."

"Alright, let's get her up. I'll carry her down if you grab psycho Berzelius over their."

"Berzelius?" Grayson threw raised eyebrow at Jason as they lifted Batgirl's dead weight.

"Yeah. Famous chemist. Helped develop notations for writing chemical formulas."

"Oh I know who Berzelius is," Grayson chuckled. "I was more shocked that you did."

"What can I say? Alfred knows some cool shit." Jason balanced Barbara over his shoulder as Grayson grabbed the secured wrists of Crane, yanking him upwards and pushing him forward towards the door.

When they'd reached the cool night air, Grayson was thankful Jason had borrowed the batmobile rather than take his motorcycle. He reached in to a pouch on his belt, grabbing the keys to his Porsche. Tossing them at Jason, who excitedly headed towards the side of the building.

"Don't scratch it!" Grayson yelled after Jason as the doors in front of him automatically opened. He shoved Crane in to the passenger seat, moving around the front of the car, keeping his eyes trained on Crane's movements.

"Don't touch anything," he spat out as the car came to life. Honestly, this thing would drive itself, and did sometimes, but Grayson liked the rare opportunities he had to sit in the driver's seat. He would never give up his Porsche, but this was a close second.

Moments later, Nightwing sat against the outside of the car as two uniforms escorted Crane's mangled body into the GCPD. A burly, man flew passed them, heading straight towards Grayson. He didn't move from his perch, crossing his arms over his chest as Barbara's dad stepped inches from him, his finger pointed in Nightwing's masked face.

"What is this mess? You hand me a beaten victim and claim he should be locked up, not you?"

"Commissioner-"

"He's bloodied and nearly unconscious, son. You have no idea what could come-"

"Commissioner-"

"No, bird boy. I talk now!" Gordon's glasses had slid down his face, resting on the edge of his nose. Grayson had seen Jim like this multiple times; while reading the paper in the morning, after Babs and he had spent endless all nighters together studying for finals during high school. Granted, the large vein in his forehead was not normally present, but that's to be expected when dealing with the aptly named Batfamily. Barbara always insisted they were all going to give her dad a heart attack. Or an aneurism. Nightwing tried to hold back a smirk, which was immediately caught by the seasoned detective.

"Something funny, boy wonder?" Grayson let the old nickname slide, narrowing his eyes as he focussed on Gordon's face.

"No, sir."

"Good. Now, you drop off Jonathan Crane, claiming he assaulted you and Batgirl, yet he's the one with a mangled face and bruised wrists. I should file arrest warrants for you and your little girlfriend," Gordon paused, lifting his glasses with his thumb and forefinger to massage his tired eyes. "But you know I won't," he sighed. "Crane's a monster. He's been in and out of Arkham countless times this past year alone. They won't keep him there."

"So get him for drug trafficking. No more of this fear toxin bullshit," Grayson spoke up. "Batgirl and I have been putting together a case on him. Illegal use of GSU property to make a new drug, tasking students to distribute. It's leaking out in to general population too, not just on campus."

"You have proof?" Gordon was never satisfied with a hunch.

"Not yet. We had a sample from the lab, but that's non existent now. Batgirl was hit pretty hard tonight. She's being taken to our lab, we'll see if we can get any diagnostics from her blood sample."

"I'm sorry, Nightwing. Is she okay?" For as much as Gordon detested the vigilantes in his city, Grayson always appreciated his sincere care for their safety.

"She will be," Grayson reassured the commissioner. "I'm heading there now. If you can keep Crane in custody for 24 hours, I promise I will get you enough information to lock him in Blackgate."

"We may be able to swing a judge to add manufacturing and distributing drugs on top of Crane's usual rap sheet. With the right evidence and a skilled D.A., we could get him proper incarceration this time."

Gordon's hand rested on Nightwing's shoulder. He'd only done this once before, while Dick was wearing a tuxedo, waiting in the foyer of the Gordon family home to take Babs to a Wayne Foundation fundraiser gala. He was 17 at the time and, although well versed in his nightlife, was never more terrified thrn when the Police Captain of Gotham City grabbed his shoulder and told him to take care of his daughter.

"Keep me posted, son." With that, Commissioner Gordon turned to head back into the fluorescent lights of GCPD.


	17. Chapter17

Grayson sat upright on a metal slab, his right hand rested on the back of his neck, elbow above his head, leaning slightly to his left to expose the reopened wound. The top half of his uniform crumpled in a pile beside his feet, which dangled a few inches off the ground. Every time he sat here, too many times over his adult life, he felt like a child; feet not touching the ground, swinging unwittingly. It always made him feel juvenile.

"Terrible waste," he heard the soft mumblings from the ashy haired man sitting in a lowered stool, head close to his abdomen, tugging gently at a small needle. With each stitch, Dick grimaced slightly. He was experienced with Alfred mending the intermittent occupational hazards, but tended to opt out of the anesthesia, popping a couple pain killers afterwards to dull the ache. He wanted to be thinking clearly, especially tonight since Gordon's deadline loomed overhead, while his best asset lie unconscious in a bed above him, no thanks to his own actions.

"Got it!" Jason entered through an elevator to Grayson's left, holding up a small vial of red liquid. He veered towards the large monitors behind Grayson. When he turned to follow Jason, a sharp pain seared though his side. Alfred's hand reached up to grab Dick's arm, turning him back to face forward.

"Master Dick, please sit still. Just two more stitches to go." Dick tilted his head back slightly, keeping his torso unmoved.

"The blood analyzer should be beside-" before Dick could finish his sentence, Jason had opened a small machine, inserting the vial of Barbara's blood, and snapped the lid closed.

"You were saying?" Jason sat in the oversized leather chair, kicking his feet up and grabbing the keyboard to place on his lap. The machine whirred as Jason brought the monitors to life, accessing the corresponding program to analyze the traces of Crane's drug that could still be present.

"So Jason, where's Bruce?" Grayson hadn't heard from their fearless leader in quite some time. Bruce didn't normally check in with him, especially not since his return to Gotham. The Manor was oddly quiet when Dick arrived to meet Jason and Alfred in the cave, Barbara already resting in his old bedroom. When dealing with Crane, Alfred knew not to bring up their fragile relationship, but Grayson's curiosity got the better of him.

"Who knows? He said something about Cameroon, or Croatia, or Coruscant." Jason shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"Well, one of those is fictional," Grayson laughed.

Alfred taped the last section of a fresh bandage while Dick grabbed for a navy t-shirt beside him.

"Thank you, Alfred," Grayson patted the shoulder of his friend as he hopped off the table.

"Maybe make these ones last longer than two hours this time, hm?" With that, Alfred exited the cave, heading upstairs to check on Barbara.

Grayson's attention drew towards the computer screens. A progress bar slowly filled as the analyzer hummed beside him. He leaned forward against the desk, placing both palms next to Robin's boots. His head hung down, eyes closed as he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"So, working with Barbie again, huh?" Jason quipped. Grayson sighed; moment over.

"Yeah."

"Thought you weren't going to do that anymore."

"What? Help out a friend?" Grayson pivoted, perching himself on the edge of the desk facing Jason.

"Friend," Jason scoffed. His lips curled into a smirk, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah, Jason. Closest friend, actually."

"Too close."

"Whatever you're taking monumental efforts to avoid saying, just spit it out," Grayson already knew what Jason was implying. Hell, he knew the consequences of him being around Babs at the start of this case when he followed her back to her apartment. He knew, and didn't give a shit. He just wanted to make Jason squirm.

"You guys need to fuck." Grayson started laughing at his bluntness.

"I'm serious," Jason continued. "I said it before you left, and it's even more true now. Just do it so we can all move on with our lives."

"Who should do what?" Barbara's soft voice echoed overhead as she entered the cave.

Grayson saw Jason intake a deep breath and quickly leaned over, pressing his palm firmly over his mouth.

"Nothing! Jason's just being an idiot." Grayson laughed awkwardly, as he watched the red head approach the computer, leaning her elbows over the top of Jason's chair. He felt a hot, wet mass sliding over his palm. Ripping his hand away, Grayson revealed a smile splayed over Jason's face.

"You licked me?" Jason just laughed in response.

Barbara pushed the side of Jason's head, her signal to kick him out of the chair. He tossed the keyboard aside, hopping up and walking towards the back of the cave. Grayson was glad for the moment alone with her.

"I'm sorry, Babs," Dick started his apology, but saw her wave her hand in his direction dismissing whatever he was going to say next. He grabbed her hand in his, catching her attention. "No, I need to say this. I screwed up, more times than I'm proud of. I was sloppy to not check his pockets. I-" he paused, as he looked into her wide, emerald eyes. There was a small cut under her left eyebrow, and a purple bruise was forming on her shoulder. Her tank top revealed a large bandage covering her tricep; an injury she surely received as a result of his throw earlier that night. "I'm sorry I had to-" Dick motioned to her injury. "I can't imagine if-"

Barbara cut him off. "No, I'm glad you did it. Managed to knock the sense back in to me, and all things considered, I'm not that damaged. I can take a punch, Grayson, even from you." She smiled at him softly, placing her hand over his thigh for a moment before shifting her glance back to the monitors when a low tone signalled the analyzer retrieved the data they needed.

Barbara started typing, while Grayson moved off the desk towards his gear. He picked up the chest armour from the floor, placing it on the table he sat at moments before. He knew giving her space to work would speed the process. Grabbing a couple tools nearby, Grayson began tinkering with the joints. He found calmness in mending his gear when waiting for news to come in.

"I isolated the pathogen Crane was using in his upgraded toxin. Thank God for Wayne tech. Made it fairly simple to triangulate traces of this particular formula. I found two locations apart from the Rossum building's lab. There's an apartment building in The Narrows and another lab uptown." Barbara pulled up a grid on the far right monitor with orange dots blinking in place of their new targets.

"He's literally sprawling across Gotham," Grayson was impressed with her quick work. Only a few hours had passed since she took her place in front of the computer.

"What's the plan? If both locations are protected like Rossum, there is no way we will be able to infiltrate them both before Crane's holding time expires. And I don't know about you, but I'm in no shape to go in alone."

"Especially considering protection probably increased since the other night." Grayson starred at the grid of Gotham, formulating a plan.

"I'll head to The Narrows. Get in contact with your dad, have him coordinate a simultaneous attack uptown, and -"

"No," Barbara cut him off again. "There's no way you're going out on your own. You've already torn your stitches once. Alfred will have your head if you do it again."

She stood up to meet his eye-line. "I will go to The Narrows. You will stay here and coordinate with my dad."

"You really think I'm going to let you go alone?" Grayson scoffed. She was stubborn, but not stupid. They both wanted this mission done, but he was not about to let her endanger herself.

"She won't be alone." Both Barbara and Grayson turned their heads to look at Jason. For a moment Grayson had forgotten he was still in the cave, listening to the two of them bicker. "I'll go with her. You stay here, lick your wounds, man the comms. Get Gordon to back us up, and together we'll round up all his thugs, the evidence, and all the drugs we can get, in less than an hour. Crane will be in Blackgate before the sun comes up."

With that, it was two against one. Barbara immediately turned to head upstairs to change into her gear. Grayson let out a sigh as he sunk in to the chair, spinning towards the monitors. He reached for a Bluetooth earpiece, hitting a few buttons on the keyboard to bring up the bat computer's direct line to the Commissioner's office. He hoped everything would go according to plan for once.


	18. Chapter18

"You realize Grayson's not staying in the cave, right?" Jason spoke in a hushed tone as he followed Batgirl through a dim hallway. The two had been quiet on the ride over;

Barbara still felt embarrassed about her earlier display of incompetence. Had Jason not been able to assist when Grayson called, she would have been responsible for allowing Crane to go free. Even trusting Grayson had the situation under control, she still remained with her tail between her legs. She was relieved to be out in the field again, knowing Grayson relied on her abilities enough to not argue against Jason's plan. If Bruce has been around, not only herself, but Grayson too, would be benched. Not that being sidelined by the Bat ever stopped them from gearing up on their own. Which solidified Barbara's concurring thoughts with Jason's: Grayson had unquestionably left the cave.

Barbara stopped at a corner at the end of the hallway, crouched with her back against the wall. Jason perched on one knee, facing Barbara, waiting patiently for her to let him loose. She had divulged the previous evening's rendezvous with Crane's lab guards at Rossum Building to Jason as they climbed to the eighth floor. They were both being more cautious than usual as a result.

Jason tapped her on the shoulder, showing her his gauntlet with a small screen displaying a multitude of bluish hues and some yellow heat signatures, but no sign of human forms in their vicinity. Barbara signalled for Jason to take the lead, but to stay low. He pulled out two batarangs from his belt. With a flick of his wrists, he had them poised to throw as he pivoted around the corner. Unfortunately for Robin, he was faced with a empty hallway, a lone wooden door eight feet further down. As Jason tucked the weapons back into their holdings, Barbara noticed a slight deflation in his posture. She knew he was ready for a fight, but she was relieved for the lack of security. Barbara could only infer the same result at the lab uptown, meaning if Grayson had taken the third location for his own, he would be more than capable of apprehending the evidence without quandary.

Barbara moved passed Jason, heading for the door. Just like at the Rossum lab, there was a small keypad to the right of the door frame. The gleaming silver and black metal was uncharacteristic in the rundown, graffiti splayed hallway of The Narrows building. Barbara hoped for the best as she entered in the same digits from Greg's cellphone.

7-3-5-8-1-3.

Unlike the other keypad, when she entered the final number there was no "bzzt", no clicking of an unlocking deadbolt. There was only a small red light on the top right of the pad, which started blinking. With each second, the light blinked more rapidly. Barbara starred with confusion at the little, square wall panel until she felt Jason grab her wrist, pulling furiously at her arm, nearly yanking it from her socket. She spun unwillingly under the force of Jason's lead, but had only turned a quarter from the door when she heard a deep, resonating boom that shook her ribcage, knocking her feet from under her.

The door splintered instantaneously, shards of wood flew passed both of them. Barbara could feel punctures cutting in to her right cheek. Her skin rose drastically in temperature; the air around her set on fire, searing the little exposed skin she had. She didn't realize how much force was pushing on her until she hit the opposite wall ten feet from the now shattered door. Her arm was the first to make contact, then her shoulder, then her head. Her body slumped to the ground as the walls began crackling with heat around her. Paint blackened, falling off the drywall in flakes. Orange flames danced up to the ceiling above her, cascading over themselves like oceanic waves on a beach.

Suddenly, Robin was kneeling beside her, trying to lift her, but only succeeding in pushing her in the direction of the staircase where they entered from moments before. Currently, the flames were contained to the small alcove behind them. When they started to stumble towards the buzzing exit sign above them, Barbara could feel blistering heat on her back. For a moment she thought the fire was travelling up her cape, biting at the leather of her suit, scorching her hair. But when Jason kicked open the staircase door, pushing her through, and slamming it behind him, they both collapsed on the cool cement and she knew she was safe.

Barbra's eyes closed. The clean air stung her eyes, tears forming from the contrast of the billowing smoke behind them. Her heart was beating furiously, she heard the pounding of circulating blood in her ears. She attempted calming her thoughts to steady her breathing, managing to sit up, swinging her feet to sit on the top step. Her elbows leaned on her knees, head resting in her palms.

Barbara's breath halted from panic as her mind crashed in to realization. Her index finger reached up quickly to press the small button near her ear, clicking the signal of their communications on.

"Nightwing?" Barbara's voice echoed in the staircase abyss.

"Nightwing, can you hear me?"

Jason lifted his torso, balancing his weight on his elbows. Concern seeped from his eyes as he awaited confirmation of Grayson's safety.

"Nightwing?"

Barbara only heard white noise.

"Dick?"


	19. Chapter19

Barbara held both fists up, one beside her head, one just in front of her face; her hips were slightly angled so her right foot was placed behind her torso, her left foot square with her shoulders. She narrowed her eyes, focussing on the teenage boy in front of her.

"Nope!" He stood a few feet from her, arms crossed, displaying a large grin. He took a couple steps towards her, reaching out to adjust her stance. He grabbed her elbow, lifting it up to meet the height of her shoulder. His hand closed over her fist, tightening around hers.

"Elbows up, fists hard. You're not going to stop someone twice your size by lightly slapping them." She glared in his direction; he was still studying her. "Good hip placement." He took a step back, standing directly in front of her left fist. "Now hit me."

His hands were behind his back. Although his frame was small, she could see his muscles pushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. His chest was solid, shoulders large enough that he could comfortably hold a handstand for longer then the three minutes she prided herself on. She knew he was agile, but with his cocky stance, she didn't see this as a fair fight. And after a few days of listening to him sensei her, she was ready for some action.

Her dad had taught her how to throw a punch. Even though she was dropped off at a private school every day in a cop car, and lived in a fairly safe part of town, her dad always worried over her. He told her self defence would help her to see the world differently, and putting her in dance would strengthen her resolve, as well as her muscles. Barbara was able to handle herself in a fight, but with the boy wonder judging every micro movement, she was feeling more nervous than the opening night of her solo performance in dance school.

She swung her hips to move her right fist quickly, but instead of connecting with his smirk, she only hit air. Grayson's torso bent to the left, just out of reach. She took another step, throwing her left fist, but he ducked so quickly she could barely comprehend how she missed him. She bent her knees, trying a different approach. Her dad taught her how to sweep the legs from under an assailant. She was quick, but Grayson was much quicker. Still with his hands behind his back, he leapt a couple inches above her shin.

Again she tried to hit the boy wonder, and again she missed. She took a step forward with each swing, he took a step back, always staying outside of her reach. Eventually she stopped, frustrated and out of breath.

"Not fair," she gasped. "No one's been as fast as you. If you just stayed still I could..." her voice trailed off as she realized she was whining.

"The element of surprise only lasts for so long. Once word on the street gets out that there's a bat-girl attacking criminals, then people won't be thrown off that a red haired femme fatale is beating them down. They'll start fighting back," Grayson said as he walked across the spacious room to a small bench, grabbing two water bottles and a white hand towel. He tosssed a water bottle at Barbara, but handed her the towel as he got closer. She gladly accepted both.

After gulping down half the bottle, Barbara wasn't about to let Grayson show her up.

"Okay, let's do this again." She dragged the towel over the nape of her neck, tossing it off to the side, throwing the water bottle on top. Without waiting for Grayson to prepare himself, she spun her weight on her left foot, leaning back to bring her right leg level with her hip, propelling it towards his abdomen. Grayson, still drinking from his bottle, swung his left hand down to block her foot, pushing it towards the ground. A large grin appeared on his face as he tossed the bottle to land beside hers.

Her left hand swung for the smirk on his face, but his right arm caught her forearm, bringing it tight to his side. She threw her right fist, but again he caught it, forcing her to take step closer. They stood inches apart. She took a moment to look at his playful features.

She had originally met him as Robin when Gotham's two vigilantes stopped her kidnapping in progress; a hazard of being the police captain's daughter and another reason her dad was overprotective. In all the times Barbara had met Robin, she never realized how blue Dick's eyes were until now.

He may be younger than her, but not by much. Ever since she discovered his double identity, she would watch him differently at school. He managed to maintain his acrobatic physic over the years, obvious to her now it was due to his constant training in the batcave. He had an air of smugness that she once thought was actual arrogance, but after getting to know him during their 'after school activity', realized it was all a show. Playing the ward of a billionaire needed a bit of callousness to display legitimate. But even though he pretended to be mightier than thou, Barbara always noticed Grayson looking after his classmates, opening doors for teachers, including everyone in his conversations in the halls. His heart was genuinely pure. And he had fantastic hair. She always loved his hair.

Although she had never worked with him during a patrol, she hoped their sparring would give Batman resolve to let her accompany them on some bigger cases. For now she was stringing up muggers and petty criminals; which she felt was better than doing nothing. A much too common activity of the GCPD's officers, according to her dad. Oversight outweighed overachieving, she would hear her dad mumble when he got really annoyed with his squad.

Barbara snapped her head forward, bringing her forehead to meet Grayson's. He was caught off guard enough for her to push away from his grip on her arms. Looking to get the most amount of distance in the shortest time, she leapt off her heels, arching her back. Her hands met hardwood and she sprung up, completing her back handspring to look forward, seeing Grayson, mouth agape and palm rubbing his forehead.

"Not bad." A look of pride lit up his face.

The two started showing off moves they had learned over the years; Grayson from his years in the circus and training with Bruce and Barbara from her dance and gymnastics lessons. Grayson gave her pointers on how to turn a grande jete into a combat skill, applying the right amount of force to knock the wind out of a thug.

"You're small. Use it." Grayson's tips were obviously from experience. Barbara felt a warmth of privilege that he was being so forthcoming with her. "Get low. You won't overpower guys bigger and stronger than you, so use their force against them."

"You sound like my dad," Barbara laughed. She could see Dick smiling sincerely, his head looked down as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry," he nervously laughed. "I guess I just never get to talk about this stuff with someone else."

"Don't be sorry. If I'm going to work with you guys, I want to be prepared." The two took a few steps to the bench, taking a much needed rest.

"Yeah, hopefully Bruce allows you to be Batgirl. Sometimes he gets so quiet on the comms, it'd be nice-"

"Allows me to be?" Barbara cut off Dick, holding up her hand. "No, I already am Batgirl. With or without Bruce's permission." Barbara stood, walking towards her gym bag she had casually tossed near the door to their training room not two hours ago. "You or Batman have no say in what I do. I'm not here to practice for an exam. Neither one of you can fail me and expect me to go back to a normal life."

Dick stood, remaining by the bench. "Babs, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it," but Barbara had already slammed the door behind her.

She had taken a few steps down the ornate halls of Wayne Manor, a building she never thought she would have the luxury of entering as a young child. Now she was practicing kick flips and throwing punches in the baroque architectural masterpiece of Gotham City. She was fuming internally when she felt Grayson's hand wrap around her elbow. She spun quickly, bringing a bended knee around with her momentum, pressing her raised heel hard against Grayson's chest. His hands caught her ankle, but not before the force pushed him against the wall. She pinned him there for a moment before releasing pressure; he let go of her foot and she dropped it to the ground.

"Point taken." Grayson held both hands above his shoulders.

"I can take care of myself." Barbara spat. Grayson stood silently. She let go of a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. "I chose to do this because of my dad. I've grown up in Gotham, I've seen what this city does to a good man. I've watched him over the years, slowly deteriorating but never loosing hope. Never loosing faith in the good of humanity." The two teenagers started walking down the hallway, side by side. Grayson remained silent, giving his friend space to confess. "All I've wanted to do is help. And if that means stopping petty crime, so be it. That's my place. I'm here to learn. If I can help with the bigger problems, all the better. But I'm Batgirl. I'm here to stay. I didn't use the bat symbol to try to join your clubhouse."

"So why did you use it?"

"The city was already entrenched with the bat. Criminals fear it. Thus, they will fear me."

"So you plagiarized?"

Barbara rolled her eyes. She was starting to realize he was cheesy. Always had a one liner ready to lighten the mood.

"Sure, I plagiarized." Barbara laughed. Dick reached out for her hand, grabbing the gym bag from her grasp.

"Come on. Come back to the training room and I'll show you a couple more tricks. We still haven't gotten to target practice." Grayson has already started walking back down the hall. Her dad wasn't expected to pick her up from their "study session" for another hour, so she figured she may as well make the most of her time.

"Target practice?" She yelled after Dick, jogging to catch up.

"Yeah! I've got a whole stash of batarangs just waiting to be thrown." Grayson laugh echoed as he disappeared behind the lavishy carved door.


	20. Chapter20

"We need to go," Jason's hand lay on Barbara's shoulder. She could not get an answer from the opposite end of her earpiece. Her concern evolved into panic; her palms sweaty, her breathing shortened. Her heart beat echoed in her ears so loud she couldn't hear Jason's voice. Her body was slowly going numb; she didn't realize Jason's hand was on her shoulder until he squeezed.

"Let's go!" Jason nearly pushed Barbara to stand up. Although he was concerned thinking of Grayson's safety (Idiot never listens to the plan), he was more concerned getting himself and Barbara away from the growing flames on the other side of the metal door. After a few sharp pokes and a final tug, Jason got her to her feet. Immediately they both shot down the staircase, Jason slamming his weight into the emergency exit door at the bottom, leading them both out to a crisp night air. He finally felt he could breathe. Behind him, Barbara kept repeating Dick's name. A stream of worry seeped from her voice.

He reached out his hand, grasping her wrist by her face. He pulled her hand away from the earpiece, adjusting his grip on her so he was squeezing her shoulders, squaring her in front of himself.

"He's fine," Jason lied. "If we were able to get out safely, so will Dick." Jason normally had little faith in his older brother. But as much as he hated to admit it, Dick was always able to get himself out of a jam. Even though he was an idiot, Dick was smart. Smarter than him, although he would never say the words out loud.

Now, he needed Barbara focussed.

"I'll call Alfred. See if he knows where Dick went. Can you pull yourself together?" Barbara glared at Jason. Sympathy was never his strong suit.

"I'll manage," she spat the words at him.

She stood in silence for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She knew Grayson was resourceful, she trusted him to take care of himself. Barbara yearned for his voice to pop into her ear, to laugh at her unnecessary worry. But instead she could only hear the faint shrill of sirens underneath the snapping of the crackling fire above them.

Barbara jogged her way over to the batmobile, sliding herself in to the passenger seat.

"We're heading back," Jason said into the monitor as the small video screen went blank.

"No we're not," Barbara immediately combated. "We need to head uptown. Find Nightwing."

"Grayson didn't head out until after the fires started. GCPD hit the uptown lab first, just before us. Alfred said they had no fatalities, but most were seriously injured. They immediately pulled back the team headed to Rossum. Something about getting bomb squad to investigate. That's when ours went off." Jason explained while he drove back towards the manor.

"But Dick still left. So where did he go?" Barbara felt caged. She needed to find him. She couldn't explain the irrational urge to see him, to know first hand he was safe. Her patience was shortening as any semblance of control flitted away from her grasp.

"Alfred doesn't know. The moment Dick heard what happened uptown, he'd grabbed his jacket and left. He didn't take his comms. Not surprising," Jason scoffed.

"So what do we do now?"

"Go back to the cave. We'll find him." Jason shifted the gear to accelerate his speed. Hating to admit it to himself, he was growing more anxious about Grayson's safety.


	21. Chapter21

Nightwing pressed his palms against the pane of glass, slowly moving the window up, so as not to draw attention down the hallway. With the two explosions that had just rocked the core of the GCPD, coupled with the coordination of the bomb squad at the Rossum Building, Nightwing knew the station would be in chaos. He would have no problem walking in undetected, but he wasn't about to risk the anonymity of his plan. He placed one foot on the tiled floor, his left hand holding his balance until he determined his entrance was unnoticed. There were two uniformed cops at the end of the hall to his right, near the bullpen. They were deep into conversation, neither one noticed the dark figure slinking into the dimly lit corridor.

Nightwing kept close to the wall, but walked quickly away from the cops. His step was light, barely making noise as he directed his gait towards the nearby corner. His back pressed against the beige wall, kneeling slightly and leaning into his right shoulder as he quickly glanced around the edge. Empty.

Turning the corner, he stood, inspecting the four doorways in front of him, each with a large black number painted on a frosted glass insert. Two and Four were dark, One was slightly ajar with a dim light. Three, to his left, was shut, light glowing from behind the glass. It took four long steps for Nightwing to reach the last door, his gloved hand grasping the knob. He was not shocked the door was unlocked.

The room had a single desk in the centre. No windows, but an overhead light fixture filled the small room so there wasn't a dark corner to hide in. There were two chairs. Small, grey metal frames. One was filled with a hunched over man, whose arms were outstretched in front on the table, clasped together. His wrists were close, bounded together by shiny metal handcuffs, the chain looped through a small, metal horseshoe protruding from the wooden table.

The slumped shoulders stiffened as he heard the door open in front of him. Nightwing closed the door behind him, moving swiftly around the desk, positioning himself behind the assailant.

He grabbed a tuft of brown hair in his fist, pulling it slightly up before striking the grinning man's forehead into the desk. A small strip of blood immediately appeared at his hairline, dripping down his forehead nearing his temple.

Nightwing's fist still held the chunk of hair. He slightly adjusted the man's head back, leaning in to his ear.

"What's the plan, Crane?" Nightwing's voice was a husky tone; his question answered with a low laugh from Crane.

"Why must one always have a plan," Crane's voice was low, nearly a whisper. Nightwing released the tuft of shaggy brown hair with a forward thrust. Crane's head fell towards the desk, but his palms splayed in front of him, stopping short of another blow.

Nightwing slowly walked towards the empty chair across from Crane's slumped body. Taking a seat, he positioned his elbows on the desk, leaning into his shoulders, bringing his shadowed eyes just a foot away from Crane's face.

He took a long look at Barbara's handiwork from early that evening. Crane's bottom left lips was swollen, purple, dried blood caked on the outer edge. His right eye had a large, thin gash, above it, the skin around it was blue with bruising, almost black. His eyelid swollen, nearly completely shut. His right cheek also swollen, but the blood had been cleaned from that wound. The fresh drip of red from Nightwing's hit moments ago slowly mixed with the dried blood from his eyebrow. This was not a man who should be grinning, but there it was, a smug smile splayed across Crane's broken face.

In Bludhaven, Nightwing's presence alone could get criminal to squirm themselves into confessing. Here in Gotham, he found the insanity of the city enveloped her criminals in a film of righteousness. Crane being one of its peak specimens. He figured intimidation would not penetrate Crane.

He leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet on top of the desk.

"Whatever it is, kudos," Nightwing crossed his arms. "You've got a pretty decent handle on running your new drug to whoever will take it; mostly college kids at this point. But I'm sure you have a more grandiose endgame than just the GSU campus."

Crane's smug expression remained static.

"Too bad your control is so minimal. Had a friend of ours not been unintentionally drugged, you would have skated under our radar for God knows how long. Pity you've been so careless."

Crane's mouth titled slightly into a frown for just a moment. Nightwing kept pressing.

"And having to resort to bombing your own labs. Just to, what, save face? We got too close, too fast? It's not going to stop us from putting you away in Blackgate." Nightwing paused, searching Crane's expression for any indication he wouldn't be heading to Arkham this time. Nothing.

"You'll rot, Crane."

"You think I fear you, bird boy?" Nightwing scoffed at Crane's attempt to rattle him. His voice was measured, deliberate. "You couldn't comprehend the levels at which I operate. I will be free by night's end to roam my city, curse it's name, poison it's children. You all forget I know your fears. It is but the mind that controls the body, and I will break each and every one."

Nightwing stood, turning to face the door. With his back to Crane, he almost missed the low, threatening tones that came next.

"Barbara Gordon will be one of the first to die."

Nightwing muscles froze, pausing so as to tread carefully through Crane's psychosis.

"I have seen what controls her. Letting him down, leaving behind a freedom she never really had, disappointing all the men in her life."

Nightwing turned, taking one quick step toward the desk, placing his hands on the wood. "Why her?"

"Everyone is so concerned with protection. Cowering in the shadows of the black bat hovering over the city. They fear the wrong man."

"What does that have to do with Barbara?"

"A man who's lost hope, love, innocence, is more dangerous. He succumbs to his fears, his instincts. He is not to be trifled with."

"Enough, Crane! Why go after Barbara?"

"He fears he isn't a great man. He is right. He tries to protect everyone, believing it would make a difference. It would make him great. Her death will break him. Her death will release his fear. He will break. And then Gordon will help me break this city."


End file.
